


Actions Speak Louder

by FromTheBoundlessSea



Series: Into the Unknown [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Blind Character, Dark Dany, Developing Friendships, Elia Martell Lives, F/M, Father Jon Snow, Fluff, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Kid Fic, Lyanna Stark Lives, Marriage Proposal, Minor Sexual Content, Misunderstandings, Mother Sansa Stark, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, Political Alliances, Politics, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Rivalry, Villain Dany, Viserys is nice, WARNING: child death in the first chapter, friendships, more tags to come, not Dany friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 55
Words: 93,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22772869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromTheBoundlessSea/pseuds/FromTheBoundlessSea
Summary: When tragedy strikes House Targaryen, the wheels of fate begin to turn and the setting of the stage for the war for humanity begins.
Relationships: Aegon Targaryen/Margaery Tyrell, Arianne Martell/Waymar Royce, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Cersei Lannister/Oberyn Martell, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen (Past), Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Meera Reed/Bran Stark, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Podrick Payne/Jeyne Poole, Talisa Maegyr/Robb Stark, Viserys Targaryen/Arya Stark
Series: Into the Unknown [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637242
Comments: 1041
Kudos: 349





	1. Jon I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Here is the new rewrite of PIS (or at least the prologue of that rewrite, but this will be a decently sized fic! I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Warning! Child death in the first chapter!

Jon urged the horse faster. Faster. He should have already been at the Red Keep the night before, but his horse had nearly keeled over in exhaustion and no one was going to offer him another horse quickly until he had found his dragon seal to prove who he was. 

It was moments like those that he cursed the fact that he didn’t have the Targaryen look. No one would have blinked an eye if he looked like Aegon or Uncle Viserys or his father. They would have known on sight who he was. But Jon has the Stark look and, when he was traveling, he always had to carry proof with him about who he was just in case he traveled faster than his guards, which was what he was doing at the moment. 

However, he couldn’t wait. The letter from Maester Uther was burning like wildfire in his pocket, constantly reminding him of the reason for his journey. 

_Prince Jon,_

_I regret to inform you that the eldest princesses have caught what I can only guess is dragon fever. Princess Naerys was the first to get sick and Princess Alysanne fell soon after. At first I believed it was simply a chill caused by the cold front from the sea. However, the fever has grown worse and Princess Naerys has stopped responding to outside stimuli. Princess Alysanne is unable to sleep and is in constant pain, exhausted from that alone._

_I know you are away on the King’s business, but I urge you to return quickly. Princess Sansa would be the one writing you but she has not left the princesses sides and has barely accepted food and drink to keep herself from falling ill. I am unsure if you have received any other letters, but I know that your guard often keep letters from you until your mission is through. I pray that, because I am the maester, they give you my letter quickly._

_I implore you to return to the Red Keep, regardless of if you are able or not._

_Forgive me, your grace, I do not think the girls are long for this world by the time I send this letter nor by the time you read it._

_Please hurry, your grave. Your daughters need you._

_Maester Uther_

Jon had wanted to scream when he read the letter. Wanted to run his sword through Renly Baratheon, the man he had trusted most, when he learned that letters from his wife, brother, and mother had been kept from him. What if he was too late? He prayed to the gods that there had been a change for the better in his eldest daughters, but prayer was not enough. His father’s gods had never answered his prayers and his mother often told him the old gods were blind in the South. Even so, he prayed. Let them listen to him once. Let them hear him for once in his life let them listen and answer. 

He needed to get home. He needed to be with his wife and daughters. 

Jon didn’t know what he would do if he lost them. 

—

Aegon stood from the steps of the Red Keep and ordered a man to take Jon’s horse and have it checked over as soon as Jon dismounted. His older brother embraced him tightly. 

The two had been on bad terms for the better part of Jon’s marriage to Sansa. Aegon’s betrayal and marriage to Margaery has frayed their relationship, Jon feeling betrayed on his cousin’s behalf. Their father’s decision to make Jon his heir instead of Aegon had all but destroyed the brothers’ relationship. However, all that melted away when Jon returned his brother’s hug. 

“I’ll take you to them,” Aegon said, walking quickly into the Red Keep and Jon followed suit. 

“Where are the other children?”

“Margaery, Dany, and my mother took them to the Reach. Father wanted them in Dragonstone, but Mother argues that the air was stale and cold there and she didn’t trust that they wouldn’t get sick, even if it wasn’t with dragon fever.” He took a sharp breath. “All the children are gone from the keep. I think Lord Varys has even sent bus birds away in fear of the sickness.”

Jon nodded, closing his eyes. That meant Jon and Sansa’s youngest daughters, Celia and Lydia, were gone. Gods he hadn’t seen Lydia since she was born. Aegon’s son Jaehaerys was gone, as was Ser Podrick’s daughter, Lyarra. His stomach churned. How bad was it if they had sent all the children away?

“Rhaenys is coming,” Aegon said as they continued to rush. “She’s leaving Elia with the Martells, but she said she needed to be here for Sansa.” Aegon looked at his brother, his dark lavender eyes red from either lack of sleep or crying, Jon didn’t know. “I’m sorry Jon.”

He didn’t reply when he went into the maester’s chambers. Two beds had been made for the two princesses. 

Naerys, his heir, was laying upon her bed, asleep. The only sign of her life was the difficult breaths she took and the look of pain that flirted across her features. Jon’s mother was sitting next to her, holding the girl’s hand, trying to sooth her. Naerys’ red hair clung to her skin in the fever and her pale skin seemed to glisten against the afternoon light. 

Jon’s wife was sitting next to Alysanne. She looked haggard and when he entered, her cold blue eyes glared at him in mistrust and well-placed anger. He doubted she would believe him if he told her that he hadn’t been able to see her letters until recently, but it was his own fault for her disbelief. He had been an absent husband and father, and she no doubt thought he cane to her bed for carnal reasons only. But now was not the time to argue. 

“Father…?” His second eldest daughter’s voice was weak and trembled so softly he would have thought it was Naerys speaking instead of his Alysanne. However, her Stark features and coloring proved her identity true. 

Jon sat on his daughter’s other side and took her hand in his. “I’m right here, sweetling,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. “Right here.”

“I had a strange dream,” his daughter whispered. 

Jon stood and put his hand to her brow, she was burning to the touch, but the coolness of his hand seemed to calm her. “Tell me about your dream, sweet girl.”

“There was ice, father. Just ice and wolves.”

“That is a strange dream, my girl,” he said, smoothing the dark hair from her face. 

“Father?”

“Yes, my sweet girl?”

She turned her dark eyes to him, her tears mingled with the sweat. “I’m scared.”

“I’m right here, sweetling.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m right here. I—”

He looked at his daughter and found her eyes unblinking, the light draining from them as they grew dull. 

“Alysanne.” His voice knotted in his throat at her name and he fell forward onto the bed. “Alysanne!”

Sansa screamed, crawling into their daughter’s bed and held her tightly, sobbing and begging her baby to wake up. 

—

Jon stood behind his wife as she whispered softly into their daughter’s ear. He didn’t know what she was saying and he doubted he would be allowed to know. At that moment, he didn’t care. His daughter was dead. His little girl. His little wolf. He felt as though someone had ripped his heart from his body and all that was left was an empty cavern. His heart was most likely with Naerys, who still slept in the maester’s chambers with Maester Uther being the only one excused from the funeral. His daughter’s fever had broken not long after her twin sister had died, but she had yet to wake up. 

_Snip_. 

Jon looked up and saw that his wife had cut off a lock of their daughter’s dark hair. She looked back at him and glarred.

If hating him helped her manage her grief, he would take it. He hated himself at the moment as well. Jon approached his daughter when Sansa stepped back. Rhaenys was waiting for her, opening her arms to Sansa and the younger woman began to sob quietly into the Targaryen princess’ arms. The Starks were not able to make it on time and it would take a month or so for Uncle Viserys and his wife’s sister to return from their travels along the Narrow Sea. 

Jon closed his eyes and then returned his focus onto his daughter. 

Alysanne was the most like him out of his four daughters. While Lydia also took after him in appearance, it was Alysanne who was the most like Jon himself. She was adventurous and wild. She enjoyed riding with him whenever he was back from his trips and had been learning archery and even practiced with a wooden sword. At only six-years-old, his daughter had been amazing and the one he understood the best in his family.

Alysanne. His little wolf. 

Jon pressed his lips to his daughter’s cold brow. She looked so peaceful upon her pyre. Her dark hair was loose and had winter roses placed about her hair and in her folded hands. Her eyes were closed and Jon could almost believe she was sleeping. But she would never wake up. She would never shriek as she ran into his arms upon his return. She would never again climb up him as though she were a monkey. She would never shout for him with such joy and love ever again. 

“I love you, my sweet girl,” he whispered as he stepped back. 

Since his father was the head of the family, but also the king, it was his duty to light the funeral pyre. Jon closed his eyes when the fire began to lick at his daughter’s skin and reached out to take Sansa’s hand in his. She didn’t cast him off and he squeezed it tightly. It was his anchor. If he didn’t have it, Jon felt as though he might climb into the pyre with his daughter and demand the gods return her to him. 

Jon could feel the heat of the fire and he waited and waited. They all did until his daughter was nothing but ash and fragments of bone. The septon collected the ashes into a vase of red and black that held Alysanne’s name, written in the Old Valyrian language, engraved upon it. They were to keep it in their rooms for seven days as a statue was made for her and then she would be placed in the crypts below the Great Sept where the rest of the Targaryen’s were buried. 

Sansa carries the vase to their rooms and placed it upon the desk by the window where Alysanne might look upon the ocean. After that, Jon followed his wife until they reached the Red Keep’s godswood. She had told him once, when they had been only cousins, that it wasn’t as grand as the one in Winterfell. His mother had said much the same. Jon wouldn’t know as he had never been allowed to go North. 

Sansa went to the godswood’s heart tree and knelt at its base. She took the lock of their daughter’s hair in hand and split the hairs in half. Carefully, she used her free hand to shift the dirt until there was a small hole and she placed half the hair inside before hurrying it and praying. Jon bowed his head, praying now for Naerys. 

—

Naerys had been moved back into the nursery, but Jon’s heart ached when he first saw the size of the bed she and Alysanne once shared with only Naerys within it. They would have to get a smaller bed or perhaps allow Lyarra Payne to be her bed mate until she got better use to sleeping alone in such a large bed. 

Jon’s emotions were not reflected in the weather. The sun was shining brightly in King’s Landing, as though ignoring the loss of a beloved princess. However, perhaps it shone because Naerys was breathing and she was supposedly better based on what Maester Uther said. 

Jon and Sansa didn’t leave their daughter’s side. The children of the keep were still away as servants and others aired the halls and rooms, hoping to dispel the sickness as they could. Jon and Sansa were exempt, laying down with their daughter between them, hoping and praying that she would wake soon. 

“Mother?”

Jon looked up and it felt as though his heart had been rammed back into his chest at the sight of his daughter’s eyes fluttering open. 

A son seemed to be ripped from Sansa’s throat as she wrapped her arms around her daughter, pulling her to her chest. 

“Naerys,” Jon breathed. He wrapped his arms around both of them, biting his face in his daughter’s hair as Sansa continued to cry. 

“Father?”

“I’m here, sweetling,” he said. “I’m right here.”

“Mother?”

“Yes, my darling?” Sansa answered. 

“Why are there no candles?”

“Why do you want candles, my darling?” Sansa asked as she pulled away from Naerys and cupped their daughters cheeks. 

“I want to see you,” she said. “The moon and stars are gone. I want to see you.”

Jon sat up in an instant, as did Sansa, who still held their daughter’s face in her hands. “Naerys,” his wife breathed. “Don’t you see anything, sweetling?”

“It’s nighttime, Mother,” she said. “I want a candle.”

Jon lept from the bed and opened the door. “Fetch the maester,” he said to the guard at the door. The servant left quickly when Jon returned to his daughter’s side as she continued to ask for a candle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jon and Sansa.  
> Dragon Fever is based on Scarlet Fever in my mind.
> 
> What do you think of the changes already taking place?


	2. Sansa I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some mild grief sex in this chapter, just a warning.   
> Also, I’m adding “grief” as a tag

Sansa stood by the door of her and Jon’s bedroom as Maester Uther examined Naerys. The maester has always been fond of the twins, carrying sweets in his pockets for them, ready with a bandage for whenever Naerys would prick her finger or Alysanne would scrape her knee. 

She closed her eyes as a tremor ran through her body at the thought of her daughter. Alys… her precious baby. Gone. 

She should have noticed it sooner. He was their mother, she should have noticed sooner. 

It had started like a cold, just a common chill that anyone and everyone could get on occasion in the drafty keep. Naerys had fallen sick first, coughing and catching a slight fever. Sansa had thought little of it and had not thought to separate her and Alysanne from one another. The two girls were as thick as thieves and Alysanne had always been rather protective of her twin sister.

Then Alysanne had gotten sick and Sansa moved Celia from the nursery and into the room Lydia slept in. It was still just a chill, she just didn’t want the girls to be bothered by their younger sister’s constant moving about when they needed to be resting.

Then the rash came. Naerys’ skin had turned scaly. Her pale skin became blotchy and red as the rash grew up her chest and arms. That was when Maester Uther had carried the girl himself to his office while Sansa carried Alysanne. He daughter had been so heavy. So very small and heavy all at the same time. Sansa could still feel the weight of her against her chest. 

It only got worse when Alysanne caught the rash and Maester Uther had ordered that all children leave the keep immediately. 

_ Dragon fever.  _

A chill had run up Sansa’s spine at the name. Adults were almost entirely immune to it, the disease not able to take on a full grown adult. Sansa could remember her lessons from Septa Mordane about the first outbreak of dragon fever in Westeros during the campaign of Aegon the Conqueror. It had been called such because of the scaly rash, but also because it had appeared as though any place the shadow of dragon wings touched the land and the Targaryen’s visited, the illness would come upon the children of the land. It was as though the dragon riders were cursed. Should anyone come against them, their children would be killed by a fever as hot as dragonfire. It was why her ancestor, Torrhen Stark, had knelt. 

Sansa should have noticed sooner and perhaps Alysanne would have been alive and the weight from her chest might have been one she could put down. 

Maester Uther came to them and Jon shifted closer to Sansa, but she moved away from him in favor of stepping towards the maester. 

“Is she well?” Sansa asked softly.

“She’s responding well,” Maester Uther said. “By that I mean she is responding to smell and touch and her hearing seems to be just as well as before.”

“Her eyes,” Jon began. 

The maester shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It appears that the fever has taken her sight.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Sansa asked quietly.

“I plan on writing to the Citadel to see if they have any ideas, but they will most likely send me ways to help the princess be more independent as she grows older in her blindness.” He bowed. “Forgive me. I wish I could do more.”

The maester left the room and they were quiet for a moment. 

“Sansa—”

“Mother!” Naerys called. 

Sansa glared at her husband before turning her attention to her oldest daughter. “Coming, my darling.”

—

Sansa sat beneath the Red Keep’s heart tree. The godswood was nothing like the one of Winterfell. The one there had been beautiful and alive in such a way that Sansa would never fully be able to explain it to anyone who hadn’t seen it before because, if one had seen a true godswood before, one needed no explanation. 

The godswood of the Red Keep was small and had more stone than wood. The trees were dark as though burned and even the wind felt stale upon Sansa’s tongue whenever she prayed. The godswood felt as though it were dead, or at the very least dying. Even so, Sansa preferred to pray there than in the cold sept. 

As a girl, Sansa had taken more to the new gods of her mother, worshiping and taking comfort in the gods her mother had found comfort in. It wasn’t strange. She had known from a young age that she was to travel south and marry a Targaryen prince. Sansa knew that many had been against such a union, but what could they have done besides follow the king’s orders. She had been so naïve then, believing that she would have a marriage like her parents, one built stone by stone in love and understanding. 

She had thought such a thing would be true when she had once been engaged to Aegon. The silver prince had been charming and met every one of Sansa’s expectations. She imagined herself to be very much in love with him when she let him steal her first kiss in the gardens that had once belonged to Queen Rhaella. 

Then he had married Margaery and Sansa had been relegated to her cousin Jon, who was distant at best and neglectful at worst

Jon Targaryen took after his mother in appearance, making him look very much like his father with only trace amounts of Valyrian features. He was brooding and solemn and everything his brother had not been.

Sansa had heard whispered that he and his aunt, Princess Daenerys, had almost been married before Aegon had broken his engagement to her and relegated the alliance to be between her and Jon. They were only rumors, but Sansa would never forget the way the Targaryen princess had glares at her on her wedding day. She had looked like a woman scorned and Sansa had thought perhaps they might revel in the cruelties of men together in the way Jon had been forced to give her up and the way Aegon had abandoned her, but Daenerys had made it obvious that she preferred Margaery’s company. 

Then there was Jon. 

She had spoken to her cousin prior to their marriage as any cousin might speak to her royal cousin, of whom she knew very little. He had been rightfully angry on her behalf for what Aegon had done and had even taken it to the training yard where he had forced his older brother into his knees and ordered Aegon to ask Sansa for forgiveness. 

She had vocally forgiven him, knowing she was to marry into the family and be forced to interact with him, but Sansa would not lie to herself and say she held no resentments. No, he had played with her heart and gleefully crushed it in the most public way imaginable. So, while she was surprised when Rhaegar took Aegon out of the line of succession and put Sansa’s new husband as his heir, she had quite enjoyed the look that played don Aegon and Margaery’s expressions when the announcement was made. 

Jon had been kind at first, trying to take care of her in the ways he understood a husband to be, but he was no Aegon or Rhaegar. He couldn’t charm a woman to save his life. It did not help that the king sent him away often to help better the relationships between the crown and the other lords. He had missed the twins’ first nameday and had missed Celia’s birth all together. He rarely, if ever, responded to her letters and inquiries and Sansa was left with the distinct impression that her husband found her lacking in every place outside their bed. In that, at least, they both seemed to enjoy. 

Now, he had almost missed their daughter’s final moments.

Sansa places her hand over the ground she had buried Alysanne’s hair. She wore a locket now that held the other half of the lock. Tears began to bubble into her vision at the reminder that her darling girl would not be there when Sansa went to kiss her children goodmorning or Goodnight for the rest of her life.

Her baby girl was dead and she could not be angry at the gods, but she could be angry at her husband. That was all she could do for she felt as though she might burst if she did not direct her anger somewhere. 

—

Naerys slept between them as instructed by Maester Uther. He said that there was a little problem with her breathing, but it seemed to come from the lingering remains of her fever and nothing else to worry about, it would simply be best if she slept with Sansa and her husband should she need them. 

Jon had long since fallen asleep, no doubt exhausted from the recent events and his own travels. His dark curls were an utter mess and his expression rested in the sort of sleeping blankness that most people got when they were exhausted enough. He had his arms around Naerys, their daughter snuggled up to his chest as she slept as well. Sansa knee full well the heat her husband could radiate. It was one of the few reasons Sansa had never demanded she be given her own rooms. Even if she found no pleasure and, currently, found anger in her husband’s body, she could at least derive pleasure from it. 

Now, though she wished to pull their laughter from his arms and deny him this. She wanted to hurt him. How desperately she wanted to hurt him. 

Logically, she knew that Alysanne’s death was not his fault. The only fault laid with the new gods and them alone. But she couldn’t be angry at them for they had at least let her keep Naerys. All she could do was be angry at Jon. 

Even so, Sansa’s arms felt so empty. 

Alysanne had taken after her father in almost every way, save her broodiness. She was a lot like Sansa’s sister Arya, in a way. Jon had adored that girl, showering her with just an ounce more of affection than he did their other daughters. 

Sansa so desperately wanted to hate him. She didn’t know what she would do if she could not hate him. 

—

She wanted him to be rough and take her like a wolf or even like a dragon, but her husband never did as she wished and always did as he pleased. 

Instead, her husband was gentle. He kissed at her cheeks as she cried silently and she could feel his own tears drop down his nose and splash onto her skin when he kissed her neck, bringing her legs up around his hips as she felt his growing hardness against her center. He didn’t grip her tightly enough to leave bruises, instead soothing her tense muscles readying her until he simply pushed inside her, finding little resistance, and began to roll his hips into hers. 

He grunted into her neck and she could feel the warm tears pool against her collarbone as he held her tightly and tenderly all at once. 

She wanted to hate him. 

She had to. 

It would hurt too much if she loved him. 

Sansa cried out as he brought her to her peak and he shuddered as he spilled inside her. 

She prayed that the gods would give her another babe. 

She covered her eyes with the palm of her hands and let out a strangled sob as Jon shook above her, his tears sliding down her skin, mingling with her own. 

—

“You can’t be serious,” Lord Connington said, the king’s Hand looking at his friend in shock. 

The rest of the council and those allowed inside it for this particular meeting stood in shock. The looked at the king as though he had grown another head, or had even sprouted wings. 

“I am,” King Rhaegar said. “Naerys will still be Jon’s heir unless and until he and Princess Sansa have a son.”

“Forgive me, your grace,” Ser Arthur Dayne said. “I care for the princess as much as anyone, but she’s blind. Surely it would make sense to pass the title of heir to Princess Celia until a son might be born.”

“Naerys is to remain my son’s heir,” the king repeated. “I had thought with Alysanne…” he didn’t finish the thought. “Naerys was born under the Dragon’s Tail comet. It is her destiny to be queen one day.”

“Your grace—” Princess Elia attempted to intervene. Sansa would have as well, but she was in too much shock. 

“My word is law. Naerys will remain Jon’s heir.”


	3. Rhaegar I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A LOT of exposition in this chapter, but I felt like it worked for Rhaegar because he internalizes a lot.

Rhaegar had once thought he was the Prince that was Promised. Then, a comet had flown overhead when Aegon was conceived and Rhaegar believed that it was his son. While Rhaegar had always planned for his children to be Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters reborn, he had thought that would make him the one to shoulder the burden of the prophecy. However, when the comet go e overhead, he assumed that Aegon was the true prince and Rhaegar was merely meant to set everything into place. Then, Elia could have no more children safely, leaving him without one dragon head, his Visenya. 

It had broken his heart, the idea that his wife could not give him a third child. He had not loved Elia, his heart indifferent to her outside her kindness. She had borne him two healthy children in a row when his own mother had not been able to produce a living child after him for many years. For that, he would always be thankful to his first wife. Always. 

However, a second wife was necessary, though. He would do what his father had been unable to do, find a second a look outside the Valyrian line. 

Lyanna had been the perfect match. Though she had Stark features, she was Visenya reborn. 

Rhaegar had always preferred Visenya over Rhaenys in the tales and histories of his family. He knew that people claimed that Aegon loved Rhaenys, but he felt that it was Visenya he truly loved, he simply didn’t want to clip her freedom. A warrior queen could not be a warrior if she fell pregnant every other year or so. Yes, Lyanna had caught his eye. 

It had not taken long for her to fall for him. Rhaegar was aware of his charm and charisma, it came naturally to him, so when he truly aimed to charm, it never failed him. He was in luck that she was betrothed to his cousin Robert and the girl had no feelings for him, believing him to be a man of many lovers when in reality he had only ever had the one that had comforted him during the loss of his parents. Even so, Lyanna had been easy to charm, easy to sway, naive in her belief of his honor as a prince. 

He had stolen her away, like one of the songs she so loved for him to sing. He had taken her to Dorne, lavished her in a kingdom she thought she would never be able to see. Married her in secret demoting Elia to a consort instead of a queen. Aegon would still be his heir, of course, but marriage was the only way he would appease the Starks. 

When they were married, he spent all his nights and mornings with his young wife, feeling young again himself, until she had fallen pregnant. He had heard about her father and brother during that time and told her the truth of what his father had done. He had told his father what he had planned, but the fool always saw enemies where he went and always went too far. He had comforted his wife and promised to be king to avenge her father and brother’s deaths and that no harm would come to the rest of her family. 

He left for the King’s Landing and then for the Trident where he killed Robert and the rebellion was destroyed.

In the chaos, his father had grown mad and had designs to burn down King’s Landing. The effort only stopped by Jaime Lannister. Rhaegar would have praised the man for protecting the city, but then his father had done the foolish thing by sending assassins for Elia and the children, only stopped by Prince Lewyn Martell, who had not taken part in the Battle of the Trident. 

Lord Tywin was executed for his treason and Jaime was as well, although Rhaegar promised for songs to be sung in his honor. Lady Cersei was married off to Oberyn Martell and the imp boy, Tyrion was made Lord of Casterly Rock. 

Everything, every plan and hope, crumbles when Lyanna came to King’s Landing as the new queen with a boy at her breast. Jonnel Targaryen. 

The maester said the pregnancy had strained her body to greatly and any other child would kill her. All the death and distraction and he had gotten no Visenya. 

Years had gone by and Rhaegar had to repair the fracturing relationship with the Starks, who were viewed as martyrs in the failed rebellion, held in more reverence than the Targaryens. He arranged a marriage between their eldest daughter and Aegon, but the boy had ruined it by marrying the Tyrell girl, even though Rhaegar had forbidden the Union twice already when his eldest son had asked. 

Rhaegar had no choice but to set his eldest son aside as his heir and name Jon instead. All to keep the Starks happy. 

Jaehaerys, Rhaegar’s only grandson was born to Aegon and the boy held the Targaryen look. He was a precious boy, the son of Rhaegar’s Prince that was Promised. He had hoped that perhaps Margaery would bear two daughters and he would be able to place the boy upon the throne after Jon with his sisters by his side, but Margaery fell from her horse, the spirited thing that she was, and the Maester said she would bear no more children from her body, no matter how hard she might try. 

Then, the comet that resembled a dragon’s tail flew overhead when his heir’s wife gave birth to twin girls. This is what it was meant to be, it was a sign that the gods were making everything right as it should have been. 

A Visenya and Rhaenys for the boy who would he his Aegon. 

As Jaehaerys grew, he became a leader. A boy with a brain for strategy and cyvasse, looking at all the pieces and taking in the bigger picture much more easily than his father did. Aegon the Conqueror reborn. 

As the girls grew, Naerys, the oldest, took after her mother and behaved like Elia, a sweet girl who loved music and songs and playing monsters and maidens. A Rhaenys through and through. Alysanne, the youngest, took after her grandmother. She was wild and adventurous and brave. A true Visenya, if ever he saw one. 

His dragon had finally found its three heads. 

Then the gods laughed and took his Visenya away. 

—

Rhaegar laid in his bed thinking. He needed a Visenya. Celia and Lydia were too young, but from what he could see they were too much like their mother. They did not have the same fire that Visenya or Alysanne had. He closed his eyes and then opened them. His granddaughter Elia was the right age.

Rhaegar had been greatly disappointed in his daughter when she had fallen pregnant. Even more so when she announced she would never get married. However, his granddaughter was being raised amongst the Sand Snakes. She was still young, but there was a fire in her that could make her a good Visenya. 

It would work, a child from each of his children, two with Dornish blood. That would certainly make the Martells happy. 

“My love, you are thinking too hard again.”

Rhaegar turned to look at Lyanna. She was as beautiful as ever, although she had grown older. She was as she had been when they first met. Naive and free. He liked her that way. He liked that she didn’t have a head for politics or cared much about the ways of the kingdom. Her innocence was one of the things he cared about in her, although it annoyed him at other points as well. 

“Forgive me, my queen. What is it you asked me?”

“Why are you keeping Naerys as heir?” his wife asked. “Our granddaughter is lovely, but she’s blind, aren’t you worried?”

“It is only temporary,” he lied. “Until our son has a boy of his own.”

“And if he doesn’t?” She worried her lip between her teeth. She had tears in her eyes. His wife felt the loss of their granddaughter keenly and the loss of their other granddaughter’s sight hurt her deeply as well. 

He wouldn’t. “Then she shall rule as a queen in her own right.” With Jaehaerys as king and Elia by her side. “Would that not make a good song, sweet girl?”

His wife frowned. “But…”

Rhaegar sat up and kissed his wife upon the lips. He opened her mouth just the way she liked it by nibbling upon her bottom lip until she was open to him and rolled them on her back until she was moaning beneath him. She had always been rather loud and sometimes he missed Elia’s soft gasps beneath him, but he had not been welcome in his consort’s bed since he fled with Lyanna. 

“Rhaegar…” his name was a prayer on his wife’s lips as he lifted her shift above her hips. “I don’t…”

“It’s okay to mourn,” he whispered, trying to change her thoughts. “Let all of the thoughts go, sweet girl.”

He watched as his wife began to cry and he soothed her worries with fluttering kisses and the thrusting of his cock. 

—

The Others were rising, he knew that for certain. He had already begun to make reparations with the wildlings, hoping to garner some friendship between their people so they might better help them in the war to come. 

He looked over the book of prophecy he had found when he was a boy. Prophecies were fickle things. There was so much that could be interpreted, so much that could have been embellished before it was written down. Either way, it was the key to House Targaryen. 

Once the prophecy was complete and they, the Targaryens have defeated the Others, there would be peace in the land and the people would love them again as they had loved him once before, before the rebellion. 

Rhaegar just needed to wait and play the game until then. 

—

Rhaegar went to the nursery to find his granddaughter sitting up, her head turned slightly to the open window. Maester Uther was talking to her gently. When the slightly younger man noticed the king’s entrance he bowed his head slightly before touching Naerys’ shoulder and whispering softly to her. 

The girl looked around wildly and reached out her hands, grasping at air as a babe might. “Grandfather?”

Rhaegar went to her and picked her up in his arms. She had lost weight during the sickness and was still getting some of her strength back and hopefully putting on some weight. 

“Lys is gone,” she whispered softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt warm tears begin to soak into his collar as she trembled slightly against him. 

Rhaegar stroked her red hair and rocked her slightly, something he used to do for Rhaenys when she came to him with nightmares. “It’s okay, sweetling,” he said gently. “It’s okay.” He turned to Maester Uther. “What has the Citadel said?”

“There are some stories of royalty who had gone blind at birth in Lys,” the man said. “The princess and her aptitude for music will help. If we train her to recognize bells of different notes for different people, it may help her recognize who is who, despite being unable to see, when they enter her chambers.”

“So we are to wear bells now?” Rhaegar asked. 

“They need not be loud bells,” the man amended. “There are bells made of dragonglass that are said to emit only the slightest of sound and don’t ring as harshly. If we make certain notes for certain people or groups of people, the princess might be better able to navigate and talk to people in the future.”

“Send the miners to Dragonstone and have them mine what is needed to test your theory out,” Rhaegar said. 

“Yes, my king.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys not like Rhaegar? Because I don’t. Man, I dislike him a lot.
> 
> Also, I really like the difference between the grief sex between Jon and Sansa last chapter, where both were mourning and trying (and failing) to find comfort in one another’s bodies instead of simply in each other and then contrasting it to here where Lyanna is obviously mourning their granddaughter while Rhaegar is thinking of how to replace “his Visenya.”


	4. Arianne I

Arianne shifted lazily, stretching against the mattress, as another knock echoed from the hall. She glanced over at her husband and found that Waymar was sprawled on his stomach, his face, save for his open mouth, was covered by his dark hair. Arianne smiled and pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek. He grinned and tried to grab for her when another knock sounded. 

“Ah, ah,” she said as she slipped from the bed.

Waymar grumbled and curled in on himself and buried himself within the covers. Arianne had to roll her eyes at that. Her husband had given up quite a bit leaving the Vale and coming to Dorne. Even so, he had not grumbled when their two sons took the Martell name. Her husband hardly ever grumbled save for whenever their sleep was disrupted, as it often was with Arianne being her father’s heir and their two sons getting to the age where they were in need of their father’s constant attention. 

Arianne pulled on a robe and tied it around her waist before she opened her door. “Yes?”

“A letter from King’s Landing, your grace,” the servant said, offering the scroll to Arianne. 

She narrowed her eyes and took it. “Thank you. You may go.”

She returned to the bed and sat down. Waymar groaned and pushed himself up, concerned. “Is it Sansa? Or Rhaenys?”

Arianne unrolled the scroll. “It’s in Rhaenys’ hand.”

_Dearest cousin,_

_I fear that I could barely bring myself to write such words as I feel like writing them down shall make them true. Alys has died barely a day since I have written this letter. She went peacefully, but in great pain. Sansa and Jon both were at her side when she passed and, as a mother myself, I cannot imagine their agony, nor do I want to._

_Naerys lives and her fever has broken. However, the maester has confirmed that she has lost her sight. He believes she might be able to see shadows, but that may perhaps be her trying to appease Maester Uther, who has always doted upon her._

_I write to also tell you that my father has decided that Naerys is to remain Jon’s heir until or unless he and Sansa have a son. Everyone was against such a decision, but my father could not be persuaded._

_I shall be away for a month yet for Sansa and Jon need me with them. Arya and Viserys should be returning by the end of my visit and I can I trust my brother and good sister in their care, but until then, I cannot bare to leave them in such a state._

_Pray to all the gods that they might find peace and that Naerys will be the strong girl we know her to be._

_Give Elia my love,_

_Rhae_

“Oh, poor Sansa,” Arianne whispered, tears began to catch upon her lashes. Poor Jon. Poor Naerys. “I cannot even…” A sharp pain began to twist inside her chest. She remembered Alysanne, that darling laughing girl who found no wrong in the world. Now she was gone. “Where would the boys be at during this hour?”

It only took Waymar a second to think. “Their lessons, most likely.”

“Let us all take a break for the rest of the day,” Arianne said gently. “Let us go to the beach and spend the day as a family.”

Waymar pressed a kiss to her temple. “As my princess commands.”

It did not take them long to find their sons. Arianne wrapped her arms around her boys, losing Olyvar and Daemon close to her as Waymar held all three to him as well. 

—

“The loss of a child is the most painful any parent can go through,” her father said as he looked out the window of his solar. “If the world was just, no parent would have to outlive their child. I have already written to Crown Prince Jon and Princess Sansa, letting them know they have or support if they need it.”

Although it appeared like a simple gesture from the Prince of Dorne, it meant much more. The Martells had not been pleased when King Rhaegar had taken Aegon from the line of succession. It felt like another betrayal, just as he had cast Elia aside for the Stark woman, the king had set aside his Dornish son for his Stark one. However, it became apparent that Jon was far better suited for the duties of a crown prince than Aegon had ever been. The inclusion of Dorne in political decisions had begun to take place after Jon took up the role of crown prince. Even so, the Martells had hoped for a Dornish queen or king, but they had yet been granted one. 

“I plan on visiting King’s Landing for the princess’ next nameday,” Arianne said. “I will be able to better give our condolences then.”

“Take Daemon with you,” her father said. 

Arianne narrowed her eyes. “I planned on taking both of my sons and my husbands. Why Daemon specifically?”

“Daemon is the closest in age to Princess Naerys and is not your heir.”

Arianne narrowed her eyes once more. “There is still a chance of Jon and Sansa having a son. Betrothing Daemon and Naerys will not necessarily put a Dornishman anywhere near the Iron Throne. There has to be some other way to secure an alliance between our families once more.”

“Even if Crown Prince Jon and Princess Sansa do have a son, I still wonder if he will be made heir.”

“What do you mean, Father?” Arianne asked. 

“I feel as though Rhaegar is planning something.”

“Why do you think that?”

“A Targaryen queen ruling in her own right has rarely ended well. Now, Princess Naerys has lost her sight and is at a disadvantage that, were she not a noble, would make her a nuisance to society. Yet, Rhaegar has kept her as his son’s heir when he could have easily transferred the title to the next daughter.” Her father turned his gaze to Arianne. “I do not trust the Targaryens. I do not trust them to think of children’s best interest. Take Daemon with you and push for him to spend time with Princess Naerys. Even if he doesn’t become a queen’s consort, it may hinder any plan that Rhaegar has.”

“I shall think on it, Father,” Arianne said. “I do not wish to force such a role onto my son, especially when both are so young.”

“Politics do not wait for a person’s age,” her father said. “A child born from Daemon and Princess Naerys would have the blood of five great houses in them and the backing of four of the Seven Kingdoms connected to them by blood. It would be wise, the Targaryen bloodline has never been so diluted.”

“It could be the end of the dragons,” Arianne whispered. 

“The end of Targaryen line as we know it.”

—

Arianne sat with her brothers and cousins as they watched their children playing in the Water Gardens. Out of all of her cousins, Joffrey and Tyene were the least Dornish looking, although Joffrey, at least, had dark hair. Even so, the Martell blood ran hot in their veins and Arianne knew both cared as much about the future of their house as they did the next of their kin. 

“I don’t know what the king is thinking,” Joffrey said. “You should have heard my mother going on about the _disgrace of it all_ ,” he rolled his eyes. “While I agree it is unwise to keep a girl who is disadvantaged as the heir, I cannot help but enjoy my mother’s outbursts because of it.”

“Don’t be rude,” Doreah, Joffrey’s wife, said. “A child’s suffering should not be for your enjoyment.”

“I said my mother’s outbursts were, not the princess’ blindness,” Joffrey huffed. 

“To be fair,” Obara said. “His mother is quite hilarious when she believes things are not going her way. She believes herself to be so smart, simply because she is a Lannister, when the Lannisters have fallen so far from grace it may take them three more generations to find their footing again.”

Sarella snickered. “I believe she has aspirations of Joanna becoming queen. I don’t think she understands how treasonous that is.”

“She truly doesn’t,” Joffrey agreed. 

“My father believes I should push for a betrothal between Daemon and Naerys,” Arianne said, shifting the topic. “What do you all think?”

Joffrey thought for a moment. “It would be wise,” he said. “Even though the Lannisters are not as powerful as they once were, punishing my uncle along with my grandfather set a lot of the Westerland lords against the crown and any who he favors, like Jon. It does not help that the Starks have been so far removed from politics, while not necessarily by choice, that they feel as though Jon and Sansa don’t have their Northern relatives backing them.” He paused. “I heard a rumor that they might aim to place Jaehaerys upon the throne should Jon and Sansa not produce a male heir.”

Arianne frowned. 

“But Aegon is out of the line of succession,” Loreza said. “How can his son be anywhere near the throne?”

“There are two ways,” Tyene said. She held up one finger. “The less violent way is to have Jaehaerys marry Naerys, which only reinforces the Targaryen bloodline.” She held up a second finger. “The more violent way is another dance of dragons.”

Almost all of them frowned, their mouthed forming into a tight line. 

Nymeria shook her head. “I doubt Sansa would allow her daughter to marry the son of the man who nearly disgraced her.” She glanced at Arianne. “Shall we ask Rhaenys what she thinks when she returns?”

Arianne nodded. “We need to plan this out carefully, regardless of what action we decide to tak.”

“We’re no Targaryens,” Obella said. “These decisions won’t just affect us, but all of Westeros.”

“I would encourage, however,” Doreah said, “to still put up Daemon as a possible suitor to Naerys. It would be wiser to let Jon and Sansa know that there is an option.” She glanced at her husband. “There have been discussions of sending Joanna to King’s Landing to foster under Aegon and Margaery. We might, at the very least, be able to learn what they could or may not be planning.”

Arianne nodded. “We shall make the beginnings of a decision when Rhaenys returns. Hopefully we’ll have a better idea of the situation by then.”

—

“Arianne…” his groan was interrupted by a sharp grunt as he thrust up into her. 

She was riding her husband slowly, wanting to savor the warmth of him between her legs. The boys were spending the night with Trystane in his rooms, which meant they would bother her brother and not them, which meant Arianne and Waymar were less likely to be interrupted. She ground herself down against him and his hands tightened against her hips, trying to bring her closer. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Arianne smiled, knowing full well how hard he was trying not to spend quite yet. She bent her arms and slid her hands up his stomach and to his chest and began to roll her hips more quickly against his. Her lips ghosted against his. “Would it not be a sweet death?” she asked. He grunted out his reply, lifting her slightly before slamming her back down onto him. Arianne cried out and began to ride him faster. “Oh!”

She came first and he followed soon after her. Arianne rolled off him after she had gotten some of her breath back and Waymar turned to his side and slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into him until she was curled into his chest. 

“My father and cousins think I should seek a betrothal between Daemon and Naerys.” She pressed a kiss to his jaw. “What do you think?”

Waymar tilted his face down and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. “I just want our boys to be happy. But I know that politics are equally as important.” He nuzzles his nose into hers. “We’ll see how it goes. Perhaps he will fall in love with her and we won’t have to worry.”

“Maybe,” Arianne sighed, resting her head against Waymar’s chest as he shifted them onto his back. 

“I received a letter from my father,” he said after a moment. 

“Oh?”

“Something seems to be happening in the Eyrie. My father hasn’t said much, but I think we need to worry. The Vale is connected to both House Martell, Stark, Tully, and Targaryen. I don’t like that something might threaten whatever balance we have right now. With what little we have right now.”

“Write to your father,” Arianne encouraged. “Have him write Sansa too. She should know as well.”

Waymar nodded and pressed another kiss to the top of Arianne’s head. Sated and boneless, the two fell into blissful sleep, knowing their sons wouldn’t be charging in the next morning to wake them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greatly expanding the Dornish plot from the original and introducing it a little earlier than before!
> 
> In case no one checked the tag, Arianne is married to Waymar Royce. 
> 
> Doran is already catching on to Rhaegar’s possible plans of not allowing Naerys to marry into certain houses.
> 
> Martell unity! We even have some Joffrey in there! Hope you like him and his wife Doreah, we didn’t see them at all in the last fic. I only really mentioned them in comments.
> 
> Arianne and Waymar are spouse goals in a lot of ways! ❤️  
> Do you think Baelish is planning something?
> 
> Get ready for some crazy, because Daenerys gets a chapter next!


	5. Daenerys I

The Red Keep has become like a tomb. The servants were quiet and the lords who had remained in the Keep had all taken a somber attitude, dressing in black, whether it was because they truly mourned the princess or if they wished to appease the king and crown prince, Daenerys wasn’t certain. 

It was only slightly annoying, the atmosphere of the place. The Red Keep was supposed to be the center of life and happiness for the Seven Kingdoms, but now it was unlike the home Daenerys had grown up in. It was suffocating, the grief that seemed to consume them all. Even the rest of King’s Landing had the same attitude. The streets were quieter, as though they did not wish to disturb the grieving father and mother from their mourning. Even the bells seemed to have grown duller since the death bell last rang. 

It wasn’t that Daenerys wasn’t saddened by Alysanne’s death. Her grandniece had been so vibrant and full of life, her laughter almost always echoing across the halls. She preferred playing at knights than princesses. She enjoyed riding the pony her grandfather had gotten her for her sixth nameday. She had been so full of life that even Daenerys felt an emptiness with her gone. Alysanne had felt like the daughter Daenerys had yet to have. She had not one drop of her Tully-looking mother in her and looked wholly like Jon. 

The gods were cruel, having Alysanne being the one to pass. Naerys has always been a rather weak child, preferring a needle or a doll than a horse and a wooden sword like Alysanne. She was a rather useless heir, regardless of what Daenerys’ brother thought. It was true, now more than ever, because of the girl’s blindness. 

It would have been better for all of them if Naerys had been the one to die and Alysanne a had been the one to live. If it had been Alysanne, she wouldn’t have gone blind, and even if she had, she would have thrived and rivaled any queen that had come before her. 

Then there was the matter with Jon. He had not left the nursery much since Alysanne’s death, only returning to his bed on occasion and then going to family meals, preferring to take any meal that was not mandatory with his daughters, the youngest two having returned after the Keep had been aired. His wife did much the same, her only extent of leaving was when she took the younger two out to play in the garden, which was the few times the Keep was filled with any sort of laughter. 

Jaehaerys and the Payne children were the only two who remained in the keep outside of Lord Varys’ little birds who were slowly fluttering back in. 

Even so, none were allowed in the crown prince’s chambers. Not even Daenerys had been allowed to enter Jon’s solar when she had come to see him when the Stark girl was off with the younger children. Renly Baratheon had stood guard before her nephews door and had the gall to glare at her whenever she attempted to visit. The man dared to order her away claiming that Jon wishes to be disturbed by no one but his wife. 

A dragon would curl around Daenerys' stomach as the Baratheon man looked at her in disdain. She would leave, only to not cause a scene. 

Renly Baratheon had been the only one of Jon’s close and personal guards who did not seem to fall under her charm. She had heard rumors, of course, that he was not interested in women, but such a thing should not have left him immune to her charms when he seemed so easily charmed by Jon’s wife and the young princesses. 

Daenerys had no doubt he was the one to pass the letter to Jon. She had spoken to many of Jon’s guards and had told them that Jon’s work was important so whatever letters should reach him, although Jon’s wife wrote him rarely, should be kept from him until the journey back to the Red Keep. She should have guessed that a letter from Maester Uther would make it through. 

While Jon could have easily missed the death of his daughter, it would have easily given the noble Sansa Stark a reason to ask for divorce. Then, in his loneliness and heartbreak over Alysanne, Daenerys, of course, would have been the one to comfort him. 

—

As a child, Daenerys always looked up to the queen. Lyanna was the pinnacle of all a woman could be. She was strong and fearless and brave. She went out hunting with the men and even took up the sword. She did not shy away from what softer women, like Elia or Jon’s wife, often did. She was the type of woman Daenerys aspired to be. 

She also aspired to have a love like her brother and the queen. 

They had brought the country to their knees with their love. It had sparked rebellion and betrayal, yet their love remained. Their love was strong and true, just as Daenerys’ parents had been before the lords of shifting loyalties and those who sought to control the dragons drove her father to paranoia. 

Daenerys was destined for great love, her oldest brother had told her so many times when she was a young girl, him being a father to her when their father was dead before he knew yet of her existence. She was destined for greatness and she was the light of the Targaryen family, the last woman to hold the looks of Old Valyria. She was special. She deserved worship and adoration. She deserves to be loved. 

Daenerys’ true love was Jon. It had always been Jon. 

They had always been close as children. Even though Aegon carried the Targaryen look, he had always been promised to the Stark girl, the hope to mending the rift between the North and the south. Aegon had always been rather distant too, always preferring Margaery and the other lords and ladies of court. 

Rhaenys had always preferred to stay by her mother’s side or to visit her family in Dorne. She never seemed to care much for Daenerys, so she never cared much for her. 

Jon had been Daenerys’ person. He had been her truest friend and confidant. He had always taken care of her when they were children. Many seemed to be under the impression that it was because Daenerys was the youngest out of her horde and nephews, but it was because Jon simply cared for her the most. She was his most important person. She just knew it. 

Daenerys has been writing out a proposal for her and Jon to marry for her brother to look over, giving him all the good reasons as for why she and Jon should be allowed to marry, especially considering her brother seemed to have no marriage plans for either of them. 

Then, Aegon had to go and elope with Margaery and then Rhaegar had forced Jon to marry the Stark girl. Jon, being the good son that he was, did as his father ordered. Jon, being the good cousin that he was, saved his cousin from disgrace, even when he did not wish to. 

Jon was meant to marry Daenerys. His wife would never truly understand him. She was nothing like her queen aunt. The Stark girl was more like Princess Elia. Perhaps if the Stark girl were a greater woman, Daenerys would have stepped aside, but the Stark girl was pathetic and weak. She was too much like Princess Elia, which meant that Daenerys would be Jon’s Lyanna.

It meant that Daenerys was destined to be Jon’s wife. 

—

Daenerys was rather adept at playing the role she was assigned to as a woman when she needed to. Although she enjoyed the activities Lyanna enjoyed, Daenerys also knew she had a role as the king’s only sister and the only woman of Valyrian descent that showed the perfect appearance of House Targaryen. One such role was playing with the children. She used to play with Alysane quite often, and plays with Jaehaerys more frequently and with Little Elia on the occasions that she came from Dorne. 

Now, it was her duty to visit Naerys. Everyone in the family had visited her at least once. Her room was evident of this, full of flowers and her bed covered in soft toys and dolls. 

Maester Uther spent much of his time with her. Lord Varys came to see her on occasion as well, but it was Maester Uther that spent the most time with the princess, just a tad less than the girl’s parents. 

The maester turned to look at Daenerys and then returned his gaze to the younger princess. “Your Aunt Daenerys is here to see you, Princess. I shall return within an hour. Although there are few, I shall continue our lessons soon.” Maester Uther stood and bowed slightly to Daenerys before leaving the two alone. 

Daenerys has never been close to Naerys. She looked every inch like her mother, the woman who had taken Jon away from her. She was also like her mother in the things she enjoyed, things Daenerys found rather boring. 

Although, if anything, Naerys name proved how much Jon loved her. He could have named his daughter anything and he chose a name closest to her own. 

“Hello, Aunt Daenerys,” Naerys said kindly. 

“Hello,” she replied sitting down. 

It was unnatural, the way the girl cocked her head to the side, almost leaning her head into her shoulder completely. Daenerys had no doubt it was to better listen, but it was unnerving in a way. Then, there was the girl’s eyes. They had once been a rather pretty bluish grey, but now the iris and grown milky and her eyes had no focus, gazing off as though looking through everything. It sent a chill down Daenerys’ spine 

“How are you feeling, sweetling?” she asked carefully. 

The girl frowned. “I miss Alys.”

Daenerys frowned as well.  _ Alys _ . Making the girl’s name sound more Northern. “I am sure  _ Alysanne _ would not wish for you to be so unhappy.”

Naerys nodded. “I know. But Mother and Father are so sad…” She chewed on her lip carefully. “I miss her.”

Daenerys patted the girl’s hand. “It’s fine to miss people we lost, just don’t let it define you.”

She looked the girl over and sighed. It was truly sad that Jaehaerys was the only child to carry the Targaryen look. Daenerys might have felt closer to her grandniece if she had the Targaryen coloring and not the look of the other woman.

“Take me to the gardens?” Naerys asked. “Mother and Celia and Lydia are there.”

Daenerys sighed. “I suppose.”

She helped her grandniece out of bed and walked her to the garden, which had once belonged to Daenerys’ mother. It made her blood boil whenever she thought of how Princess Elia and Jon’s wife seemed to make it their own. 

“Mother!” Naerys laughed when she heard her other sisters laughing. 

The girl ran forward and Daenerys let her go. Jon’s wife stood up quickly to take hold of her daughter. The Stark girl looked up at Daenerys with narrowed eyes and Daenerys just smiled, her lips curling like a dragon’s. 

—

Even though Daenerys’ brother had kept Naerys as Jon’s heir, there were plenty of people who believed that the heir should always be a boy. While Daenerys didn’t think gender to be important, knowing she would have made the perfect queen in her own right, she had to agree with the masses. 

Yet, Jon’s wife had yet to provide a male heir or a son to carry on the Targaryen name. 

Perhaps, if Daenerys played her cards properly, she could convince her brother to let Jon set the Stark girl aside and let him marry Daenerys. Even if he couldn’t set the other woman aside, perhaps a second wife would be a viable option. Daenerys could be Jon’s Rhaenys, who held the spirit of Visenya, while his first wife could be his Visenya, who held all the usefulness of Rhaenys. 

Daenerys would give Jon a son where the Stark woman couldn’t. Then it would be Daenerys’ son who sat on the throne, a true Targaryen prince, and all would be right with the world once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Dany was the one keeping Jon from receiving the letters from Sansa. She also thinks Naerys should have been the one to die.
> 
> Daenerys fully believes Jon loves her and that OTHER people made Aerys paranoid and basically wasn’t at fault for his actions.
> 
> She thinks that Naerys is creepy.
> 
> She thinks Jon would take her on as a second wife.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed her POV!


	6. Viserys I

They learned the news once they landed on Dragonstone. Viserys was glad that he had been the one holding their children when they were told because Arya fell to her knees in shock. She covered her mouth and Viserys handed his children to Davos Seaworth, their captain, and the older man nodded to him solemnly, promising to take the children to the nursery to rest. Brandon began complaining, but stopped when he saw his mother on the ground. 

Viserys knelt next to his wife and pulled her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she began to cry, hot tears dripping down her nose and onto his exposed skin as she trembled. 

“That sweet girl,” his wife whimpered. “Oh, Alysanne. Oh. Sansa. Oh,  _ gods! _ ” At her sister’s name, Arya’s voice broke and she began to sob uncontrollably. 

Viserys held his wife firmly to his chest as the servants and crew members politely skirted around them, bowing their heads slightly, with some taking their hats off and stuffing them in their pockets to indicate their mourning. They remained quiet, letting the lady of  _ Balerion’s Breath _ mourn the loss of her niece. 

They all knew Princess Alysanne. Out of the two twins she had been the most adventurous. Whenever they ported in King’s Landing Alysanne would kindly demand to play pirates, fascinated by Davos for previously being a smuggler. She would wear trousers and sit on Viserys’ shoulders as she commanded what way the boat would “turn.” They naturally never went out to open sea, because Viserys rather liked being alive and knew Jon and Sansa both would kill him if Alysanne fell off the side of the boat, which she almost had many times when they were still docked. 

The crew had loved the little princess, smiling happily when she remembered their names or bestowed a nickname upon them that would quickly catch on with the rest of the crew. She had been loved. 

Viserys felt the tears began to slide down his cheeks and he buried his face in his wife’s dark hair and let a small sob tear at his throat. He held Arya tightly until he was able to pull himself together and carry her the rest of the way to the nursery. She would want to sleep with the children that night. 

Viserys settles his wife into the family bed they had prepared in the nursery, Brandon and Jenny snuggling into their mother’s side. He pulled the furs over his family and pressed a kiss to their heads. He then went to the door and found Davis waiting for him. 

“Any orders?” the old smuggler asked. 

“We leave tomorrow for King’s Landing,” Viserys told him. “I know we would usually rest here for a few days, but…”

“I understand, Viserys,” Davos said gently. The crew only ever called him and Arya and the children by their names. Viserys had dropped his royal title when he married Arya, turning into an emissary for foreign relations afterward. He prefered just being Viserys, it was better that way. “I’m sorry for your loss. The princess…” The man pursed his lips slightly as tears caught on his lashes. “The princess was a sweet girl and the world is darker without her.”

Viserys nodded. “Thank you, Davos. Let the men know and also tell them we’ll be docking for much longer, like we had for Jenny and Brandon.”

Davos nodded. “I’ll let them know. Rest well, your grace.” 

Viserys nodded again. “Have someone send for Marya and your youngest. They should come with us. Everyone else’s family is in King’s Landing. You shouldn’t be without yours right now either.”

“Thank you, Viserys.”

He nodded and closed the door. He went back to bed and crawled in next to his family, slipping under the fur carefully so as not to wake Jenny. His daughter turned on her other side and snuggled into his chest as Viserys settled in. He put his hand on Arya’s rounding belly. 

He couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a child and he never wanted to find out what it would feel like either. 

—

Arya threw her arms around Sansa almost the second they touched land in King’s Landing. Sansa, in turn, held her sister tightly, the two Stark sisters holding onto one another as though they were an anchor of a ship sailing during a storm. 

Sansa has grown thinner. Her willowy figure had become haunted and her porcelain skin was pale and her eyes lifeless. Viserys went to her next, holding his good sister close and letting her cry softly into his chest. 

Sansa was too good for the Red Keep, just as Rhaenys and Princess Elia were. His good sister belonged in a place where tragedy wouldn’t be used as an advantage. Because there  _ would _ be people who would try to use it as an advantage for their own personal gain. 

Viserys looked at Jon and saw his nephew kneeling down and speaking to Brandon and Jenny. Jon had a haunted look in his eye similar to Sansa’s. His smile was strained as Brandon showed him the wooden sword they had gotten from Bravos. Jon ruffled Brandon’s hair and then looked at Jenny, and the man’s lips trembled. 

Viserys had felt blessed that both his children took after their mother in appearance, with Brandon having his eyes and nose. Jenny looked like her mother and Viserys knew full well that Jenny also looked like Alysanne did when she was younger. 

“Look at you,” Jon said gently. “Last I saw you, you could fit in the palm of my hand.”

Once they all collected themselves, Arya linked her arm with Sansa’s, both holding a child with the other with Viserys and Jon following behind them. 

“Any word from the North?” Arya asked. 

“Robb wanted to come,” Sansa said softly. “But Eddie just recently got over being sick himself and Robb doesn’t want to be away for too long. Sigrid is pregnant and Rickon doesn’t want to force her to journey so far south when she already thinks south of the Wall is south. Bran and Meera are coming with the children though.”

Arya nodded. “That’s good. They were at Greywater Watch last time the old man and I visited.”

His wife’s somewhat affectionate nickname for him was  _ old man _ . Most people assumed it was because he was seven years older than her, when it was actually simply because of his hair color and his  _ old fashioned way _ of doing things. 

“Are you okay, Jon?” Viserys asked softly as his wife and Sansa continued to talk. 

Jon neither nodded or shook his head. “Could you get a drink with me later this evening? I… Aegon has been helpful, but now that Margaery and Jaehaerys are back, he’s been paying more attention to them.”

Viserys nodded. “Anything for my favorite nephew.”

“Don’t tell Aegon that.” It got a ghost of a smile from him. 

“You're married to my wife’s sister. That has to put you on the top of my list.”

“Thanks.”

—

Arya wasn’t ready to visit Naerys. 

She wasn’t ready to see the evidence that Alysanne was gone. Viserys, however, had learned to say goodbye a long time ago. It didn’t make it any easier, but he could at least put on a brave face and see his niece, even if she might hear the slight wavering in his voice. 

“You must always pay attention to how something is worded, Princess,” came Lord Varys’ voice as Viserys neared the door. “For what are words?”

“Wind,” the girl answered. 

“Correct,” the eunuch said as Viserys opened the door. “Words are wind and what does the wind tell us?”

“A good and bad day.”

“Very good,” he said, taking out a piece of candy and pressing it gently into the princess’ opened hand. Naerys plopped it in her mouth happily. “Your Uncle Viserys is here to visit you. I shall take my leave for now, Princess, and we’ll continue our lessons for tomorrow.”

“Uncle Viserys!” Naerys cried happily through the candy. 

Lord Varys bowed to both of them before leaving the private nursery. 

“Hello, dragonfly,” Viserys said, taking the seat Lord Varys had previously. “How are you?”

“Okay,” she said. Naerys reaches out, her hands opening and closing as she reached for him, like a small babe, her head tilted slightly to the side. 

Viserys leaned forward and she touched his face, her small hands memorized his face, going over his nose and eyes and lips, ending with her holding on slightly to his ears. “Uncle Viserys!”

He blushed slightly. His ears were slightly larger than average and he was always slightly self-conscious about them, but even so. 

“I have something for you, my little dragonfly,” he said, pulling out his present from his jacket pocket. Naerys held out her hands and he placed the doll in her hands. “She comes all the way from Lys,” he told her. “And she really wanted to come to the Red Keep to be your friend so I brought her here for you.”

Naerys smiled and hugged the doll to her chest. “What’s she look like?”

“She has hair as dark as raven feathers and her skin looks like Grandmother Elia’s,” he said, using what Naerys and Alys called his older good sister. “She’s wearing a dress like your Aunt Rhaenys wears when she has to wear one. It’s the same color as you and your mother’s hair with some golden thread that has been embroidered into flowers.”

Naerys’ smile grew wider as she listened to him describe the doll. “I’m going to name her Alys,” she said. 

Viserys smiled sadly, his heart breaking even more for the girl. 

—

“Are you really okay?” Viserys asked as he and Jon sat in the balcony of one of the many empty rooms of the Red Keep. 

“I wasn’t here when the girls got sick,” Jon said quietly, taking a large gulp of wine. “I didn’t even  _ know  _ when they got sick.”

“Jon, the king sent you away and I know he shouldn’t send you away so often—”

“I almost didn’t get back in time.” Fat tears began to roll down his nephew’s cheeks. “I almost didn’t get to see her again. I…” A sob ripped from his throat. “What if she died thinking I didn’t love her? What if she thought I didn’t care enough to sit with her the whole time?”

“Jon.”

“Now she’ll never know, never know how much I love her. I loved her the moment I first felt her and Naerys kick. I loved her the first moment I held her in my arms. The first moment she spat up on me. The first moment she smiled. The first moment she laughed. The first moment she soiled her diaper. The first moment she walked. The first moment she spoke.” Jon dropped his goblet to the ground and buried his face in his hands. “I loved her so much, Viserys and now she’s just gone.” He curled in on himself, making himself as small as possible, something he used to do whenever Rhaenys and Aegon would argue. “I keep waking up, waiting for her to jump onto the bed and order me and Sansa to wake up. I keep waiting for her to burst into my solar to show me the beetle she found in the garden. I keep waiting for my baby girl to ask for me, but she never will again because she’s gone!”

Viserys stood and wrapped his arms around Jon, letting his nephew cry. “She knew young loved her, Jon. Alysanne knew that you loved her. I promise you, she knew.” Jon wrapped his arms around Viserys and the older man could feel the warm tears soaking into the middle of his tunic. Viserys stroked his nephew’s dark hair. “I won’t tell you it gets better because I don’t know if it ever will. All I can tell you is that your family needs you now more than ever. I’ll talk to the king and tell him that you are to remain in King’s Landing until further notice. Arya and I are going to stay for a good while yet and I can go and pick up some of your duties. I’m sure I can convince Aegon to do the same.” Viserys hugged him. “Focus on your family, Jon. That’s all you can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy affects everyone differently, especially familial tragedy. 
> 
> I know it’s focused a bit on Naerys and Alysanne in these beginning chapters, but I think it’s rather understandable when it comes to the loss of a child to illness. 
> 
> Sansa will get a POV next so we’ll have more moments with her and Jon coping with the loss of their daughter as well as more of their younger two daughters, Celia and Lydia.


	7. Sansa II

“It’s alright to be angry, Sansa,” Princess Elia said gently. 

Sansa sat next to the Dornish woman, her hands folded in her lap. “I’m not angry, Sansa said gently, I’m just sad and hurt and—”

“Angry,” the older woman said. “You just lost your daughter and Jon almost missed it. It’s alright to be angry. It’s alright to be mad.”

“This isn’t even the first time!” Sansa shouted, standing. “He never once replied to my letters, but when he got a letter from Maester Uther, he came running! Did he think I was exaggerating? Did he think I was being hysterical?” She began to pace. “He misses namedays and missed Celia’s birth! What right does he have to slink around the keep like a wounded animal?! Alysanne was  _ mine.  _ He might have aired her, but I was more a father and mother to my girls than he has been. They know his name and face, but he has been no father!”

“Sansa,” Princess Elia said gently, motioning for the younger woman to sit. She did so. “You have every right to be angry, but have you spoken to Jon about any of this, of how you’ve felt.”

“He doesn’t deserve to—”

“He does, Sansa. A marriage consists of two people. Even if it had changed nothing, I wish I had told Rhaegar how I felt about having another child after having Rhaenys or telling him how angry I was and how much I blamed him for my inability to have other children. He was my husband at the time and he deserved to know. Even if it had changed nothing, at least I would know.” She put her hand over Sansa’s. “Jon is not his father. Talk to him and if nothing changes, then that is on him and not on both of you. He lost a daughter too, Sansa. You both need each other now more than ever.” She pulled Sansa into her arms. “It’s okay to be angry, but it’s also okay to be sad.”

Sansa let the tears fall as she leaned into the princess, finding comfort in the woman’s maternal warmth. 

—

“Sansa.”

“Father!” Naerys shouted happily. She lifted her arms, her hands grasping. 

Sansa could hear Jon chuckle and she turned to see him coming through the door. Her husband picked their daughter up and he kissed her cheek nuzzling his bearded one against her own and Naerys giggled, wrapping her arm around him. He looked exhausted, his eyes were slightly puffy and it looked as though he hadn’t gotten much sleep. 

“I fell asleep in Viserys’ solar, he and I both did,” he said. “He and I talked a lot yesterday and, well… Fair warning, Arya’s probably going to be…  _ pissed  _ at me for not letting her husband have a proper night sleep.” He mourned the word as to not have Naerys accidentally repeat it.

Nearly everyone in the keep had hated Aegon for three days when he accidentally taught the children the word cock. Alysanne had, rather proudly gone up to the king and inquired, rather loudly, what a cock meant and what her Uncle Aegon meant by it being hard. To be fair to her good brother, he had been speaking rather intimately with Margaery and Alysanne just happened to overhear, but it still caused most of the parents in the keep to be rather upset with most of the children over the age of four repeating the word for three days until they lost interest. 

“What did you and Viserys talk about?” Sansa asked. 

“A lot of things,” he said. “Some personal and private, but we did go talk to my father this morning.”

Sansa tilted her head. “Oh?”

“I’ve managed to convince my father to not send me away from the Red Keep for the next five years—seven if we were to have another child—unless an extreme circumstance, like a rebellion, arises. But if it’s that extreme, Aegon would probably come with me too.”

Sansa blinked. “So, you’re staying?” 

He nodded. “I’m trying to convince my father to allow me to take you all to the Riverlands, where we might be able to meet some of the Starks. I know you haven’t seen them in a while, even if Bran and his wife and children are coming to visit soon.”

“Thank you,” Sansa said, unsure if she could say anything else. 

“There’s no need to thank me,” he said. “I should have done it a long time ago.”

—

Naerys was having another lesson with Lord Varys. Sansa trusted the man implicitly and knew that he treasured the girl as he did the rest of Sansa’s children. The secretive man, who had always done his best at hiding his emotions had cried quite openly upon the news of Alysanne’s death. Sansa trusted that he would help Naerys navigate the world in a way that she would be able to. 

The Master of Whispers had sent Sansa off so that she might not distract Naerys with her questions and Sansa decided it would be a good time as any to allow Jon to take her and their younger girls out on a small picnic. 

At four, Celia was already a little lady. She took after Sansa in her appearance, although she had Jon’s nose. She was a sweet thing, always remembering her manners and kissing Jon and Sansa’s cheeks before she headed to bed. Her darling little girl was an absolute joy, always wanting to please her parents, especially whenever she wrote her name and presented it to them proudly. 

Lydia, at two, was beginning to grow more independent. She looked like Jon, with her mess of dark curls and curious grey eyes that had a sliver of violet in them. She spent much of her time pulling at her father’s hair and babbling to him, with a couple words making any sense. Jon, however, took their conversations very seriously and answered with the same tone he might use if having a conversation with Renly. 

He was good with the children when he was there. It was obvious he had been more comfortable around Alysanne because she took after him in personality, but no one could deny that he loved his children. 

Lydia squealed as Jon rubbed his beaded chin along her jaw. “Stop, Daddy,” she giggled. “Stop.”

Jon kissed her cheek instead as Celia threw her arms around his neck. Jon stood up and the two girls squealed as he began to pretend they were too heavy for him. 

Sansa smiled. 

She wondered if things would really be able to change with Jon being in the Red Keep for longer.

—

Sansa watched from the bed as Jon pulled off his shirt and undid the laces of his trousers. There were some scars across his chest that he had gotten from meeting a few ruffians upon the road. She could still remember him returning to her when the twins… when the twins were three. There had been no fear for his life, but it had been quite a shock to everyone the injuries he had sustained. It was why he was required to take Targaryen men with him whenever he was sent out by the king to do business across the kingdoms. At night, Sansa would occasionally stay up to trace the scars memorizing them, but now she simply looked on them as he crawled into bed over her. 

His grey eyes peered into her blue ones and she could see his grow darker still. He wasn’t touching her yet, but bent his head to bury his nose in her neck, smelling her and kissing just below her ear as he slowly began to lower himself between her thighs. She could feel his cock hard against her stomach as he continued to kiss her neck. 

Sansa wrapped an arm around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as her other hand snakes between them ever so slowly until her fingers brushed along his cock and he growled slightly, nipping at her pulse point. Even so, he didn’t stop her from trailing a finger along his length, responding in sharp grunts depending on where her finger reached. His own hands were free. One was tangled in her hair already and the other was at the apex of her thighs, running along the seam of her, making her quiver and clench around nothing. 

She sighed when he finally slipped a finger into her, giving her some relief and moaned in frustration when he pulled it out again. Jon pushed himself up onto his forearm and brought the hand that had played with her and sucked the wet digit into his mouth, never breaking eye contact with her. 

In return, Sansa took his length in her hand and pumped him twice. Jon balances himself on both forearms as he lined himself at her entrance. Sansa wrapped her legs around him in preparation as he slowly sank into her. 

She felt every inch of him as he entered her and sighed in some relief as he was seated in her fully. 

“Jon,” she whispered.

“What do you want from me, Sansa?” he asked her softly. “How do you want me?”

“Slow,” she said. “But hard.”

He nodded. Her husband pulled himself from her and then slid back in with slow, deep strokes that left her panting. She held onto him, feeling the muscles of his back roll with every thrust, the way he ground himself against her, rubbing against just the right spot. 

“Sansa,” he grunted. She could hear the strain in his voice, the tightness as he held himself back. “Please. Please.”

“Harder,” she begged as he kissed her bottom lip, licking at it helplessly. Kissed him back, plundering his mouth with her tongue as she felt his thrust grow hesitant. She could feel him holding back. She rolled her hips to meet his thrusts and he moaned into her mouth, his hand going to her breast to squeeze and pinch. 

“Please,” he panted as he slammed into her. 

Sansa pushes him onto his back and steadied herself astride him. His hands went to her hips as she began to ride him quickly. He thrust up into her, throwing his head back calling to her as she twisted slightly with every downward thrust. 

Close. She was so very close as he continued to hit just the right spot within her. 

She brought one of his hands between them so he could feel him entering and leaving her as she brought her own hand to rub against the spot she needed. 

It happened instantly. She cried out as she came on him, her body trembling and stuttering as she did so. Sansa cried out, her husband’s name like a howl upon her lips and Jon had them on her back in a matter of seconds as he continued to pound into her, like a wild animal, a wolf. 

“Sansa, please,” he grunted. 

“Give me another babe,” Sansa cried out as he rode her through her release. “Give me another babe, Jon. Please, please. Oh, gods, please.”

Jon roared as he spent and Sansa’s eyes rolled back into her head as he filled her. She wrapped herself around him as he began to kiss every place that he could reach. 

He collapsed upon her, both boneless and sated in their coupling. After catching his breath, Jon slowly pulled out of her and turned onto his back, pulling Sansa along as well. 

“I’ll give you a hundred more babes,” Jon told her softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “And I will not leave you again unless you ask me to.” He kissed her again and slid his hand between her thighs and pushed the dripping seed back into her and Sansa moaned softly against his throat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is still unaware of the fact that Jon never received her letters. He hasn’t told her yet.   
> And Elia being the great mom that she is! She is also not at fault for how her marriage broke down with Rhaegar, but she regrets that she hadn’t tried hard because then she would have had no regrets with it ending. It was inspired by a moment in an episode of Reba where she wondered if she had fought harder for her marriage to Brock if it would have worked out.
> 
> Sweet Naerys and Jon moment with Jon promising you stay for longer unless a rebellion happens. Hm. Foreshadow?
> 
> We get to see the younger girls and Jon interacting with them.
> 
> Sex!


	8. Naerys I

“Alysanne!” Naerys howled, the wind catching it and scattering it to the wind. “Alysanne!”

The snow was endless. So very endless. As was the cold. A shiver ran up Naerys’ spine as she pawed her way through the ice. She was so very lonely, the others were dead. The others were gone, killed by the men with blue eyes. She just knew it. She shook her head, shaking off the snow from her sliver fur. 

“Alysanne!”

Her sister was South now. Wasn’t she? No, that didn’t make sense. South? Alysanne was south, but where was  _ she _ ? She needed to get South, to the warmth of King’s Landing. But something was calling her northward. 

Alysanne had told her that she had dreams like this too. 

A crow landed next to her, cawing. His three eyes bore into her and a shudder ran up Naerys’ spine and ended in her paws. He was so very distinct against the white snow. The black bird was like a shadow upon the ground or even a burned spot on a scroll. 

“Wolf!” the crow screeched. “Dragon!”

“I’m looking for my sister,” Naerys whined. 

“Wolf!” the crow repeated. “Dragon!”

The bird flew off as something tumbled into her. Naerys fell onto her back and scrambled up, growling, the fur on her neck sticking up in annoyance. A white wolf puppy looked at her curiously with strange red eyes. 

“What did you find, Ghost?” a small voice asked. Naerys looked up and saw a boy not much older than her dressed in furs. He had dark hair and grey eyes like her father. “Hello,” he said, looking at her. “Who are you?”

Something seemed to slam inside her and her vision grew dark suddenly and she couldn’t see. She jolted and fell to her knees in surprise. 

The air was warm as it usually was in the Red Keep. It was strange though, she couldn’t hear the ocean from her window. Did she fall out of bed?

Naerys touched the ground and narrowed her eyes and she felt the toughness of the stones. That wasn’t right. Her bedroom’s floor was smooth and usually had wooly carpets. Aunt Margaery had them sent from the Reach so her floor could be softer. She remembered because she’d played with Alys on them and had a pretend tea party while Maester Uther had talked with her parents about the bells. 

Naerys continued to crawl, trying to figure out where she was. The place she was at was quiet. There should be windows somewhere letting in the breeze. Panic began to bubble in her throat as her nose began to burn. She reached a wall and stood up, trying to find a window. If there was a window she could find her way back to her room. She must have gotten to the bigger room of the nursery. The bottom of the windows were supposed to be at her shoulders, but she couldn’t feel the ledge.

Naerys continued to walk along the wall, but it just kept going and going.the Stone was wrong. She hadn’t felt this stone before. The stone was wrong!

“Mother!” she cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks as panic began to mount. “Father!” She began to reach around herself wildly, trying to find a window until she tripped on an uneven stone and fell to ground, scraping her elbow. She cried out in pain, not sure if she was even in the Red Keep anymore. “Mother! Father!”

“Princess!” 

She recognized that voice. Naerys lifted her arms, unsure of where the voice was coming from, grasping for the voice. “Uncle Renly!”

Warm hands came under her arms and she was lifted up and brought close to the Baratheon knight’s chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against him, smelling sweat and the smallest hint of peaches against his skin. She let out another sob as she trembled against him. 

“Shhh,” he said gently, stroking her back carefully, rubbing circles into it. “Your okay, Princess.”

“I don’t know where I am!” Naerys cried, her voice wavering against him.

“It’s okay,” Ser Renly said gently, pressing his lips tenderly against the crown of her head. “It’s okay. Do you want me to take you to your parents?”

She nodded her head. 

“Okay,” he pressed another kiss to her hair and began to rock her gently as he began to carry her towards her parents. “You're okay.”

—

Naerys has calmed down considerably by the time Ser Renly knocked one her parents’ door. 

“Wh—”

“Father!” Naerys reaches out for him. Her fingers brushed against her father’s beard and she felt tears begin to catch upon her lashes. And she felt Ser Renly pass her to her father. 

“Shh,” her father said gently, rocking her. Her father’s scent of burning wood and steel entered her nose and she began to calm. 

“Naerys,” her mother’s voice came and Naerys reached one hand for her mother and she felt her mother’s hand on her wrist and her lips upon her finger tips. “Oh, my sweet girl.”

“What happened?” her father asked, his voice rumbling slightly and Naerys sighed as she felt a sense of calm come upon her. He rubbed her back gently as her mother stroked her hair and wiped away her tears. 

“I found her in the halls,” Ser Renly said. “She was near the armory. I’m just glad she didn’t find the door.”

“How did she get there?” her mother's voice came after she pressed a kiss to Naerys’ brow. 

“She must have sleepwalked,” Ser Renly said. “I’m just glad I found her.”

“Thank you, Renly,” her father said. “You can return to your chambers. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, your grace,” Ser Renly said and Naerys heard a slight dip in her voice, which meant he was bowing. “I’m just glad the princess is alright.”

Naerys heard the door close and her father carried her into their room. She loved her parents’ room. It smelled of pinewood and lemons and lavender. There was a creak of wood and a ruffle of fabric and then she was placed in the soft sinking bed. The bed dipped and creaked and her mother nestled in beside her.

“Do you need anything, sweet girl?” her father asked gently. 

“I want Alys,” she said softly, snuggling into her mother, finding the scent of honey and lemons soothing.

Her mother stiffened slightly. 

“I’ll go get your doll,” her father answered immediately, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Shall I get Nymeria as well?”

Naerys thought for a moment. Did she want the wolf doll her Aunt Arya got her? She nodded. 

“Okay.” Her father kissed her again and she giggled as he purposefully rubbed his beard along her cheek. 

She could feel her mother’s fingers play with her hair as the door opened and closed. 

—

Naerys awoke to the sound of her parents' low voices. She could tell that she snuggled into her father’s chest because his nightshirt felt different from her mother’s shift. He also wasn’t as soft as her mother, but he was a great cuddler, so she didn’t really mind if he wasn’t as soft. He was really warm too. 

“Are you truly staying?” her mother asked gently. Naerys could hear the slide tremble in her mother’s voice. 

“Aye,” he said. “My mother agrees that I should remain here for the foreseeable future. She never liked me being away anyway, so she spoke on mine and Viserys’ behalf as well.”

“Why are you always away?”

“I… I never felt right here,” her father said in a low voice. “I always felt like I didn’t belong. I know my mother is queen in name, but this keep always felt more like Princess Elia’s. Don’t get me wrong, the princess always made me feel loved and welcome. But as I got older, I started to understand who I was and how I came to be here. Why Rhaenys and Aegon didn’t share the same mother as I did. I didn’t want to be a burden. Not to my parents or Princess Elia. I was a spare and I didn’t want to be useless.”

“But you kept away.” There was a slightly accusatory tone that came from Naerys’ mother. 

“Aye. I’ve ruined a lot of things, I always have. I didn’t want to ruin the girls. I didn’t want to ruin you.”

“But why didn’t you answer my letters?” her mother asked. 

“I—”

“Father,” Naerys said, wiggling. 

“Yes, my sweet girl?”

“I need to go pee.”

Her father chuckled. 

“I’ll take her,” her mother said, helping Naerys out of bed. 

“I’ll answer your question later,” her father said. “When we don’t have a peeing monster in our bed.”

“I’m not a  _ peeing monster _ ,” Naerys grumbled. 

“You definitely don’t remember your time as a baby,” her father laughed. Naerys heard a slight smack. Her father let out a slight wheeze. “Ow!”

Naerys giggled. As did her mother. 

—

Naerys was returned to the nursery the next morning to play with her dolls. Maester Uther would come later to help her with the bell training since a few had been able to come in. They were bells for her parents and grandparents. She was going to practice memorizing them, but for now she was just going to play. Lord Varys wasn’t going to come at all that day, telling her he needed to do some grown up things. She wanted to tell him that most things were grown up things, but she decided against it. 

“Hey Naerys.”

She smiled and tilted her head slightly to hear him better. “Hi, Jae!”

Her cousin sat down next to her, she could tell by the way his trousers seemed to rub together and the way the carpet seemed to whisper slightly as he sat. “What are you doing?”

“Playing. It’s when Dorne killed the first dragon.”

Jaehaerys grunted. “That’s a sad story,” he told her. “Father said so.”

“They killed a dragon,” she told him. She thought it was a good story. Her mother told her that the Dornishmen were braver than anyone in all of Westeros and she should be like Princess Meria, standing for her country and kin with pride. But also like Prince Nymor when it came to seeking peace that would benefit the people. 

“We’re dragons,” her cousin said. 

Naerys shrugged. She never felt like a dragon. She looked like a fish, like her mother and grandmother, based on what her own mother said. Alysanne had looked like a wolf, like their father and grandmother. Celia was a fish too and Lydia a wolf. Jaehaerys was the only one amongst her cousins to look like their grandfather. They looked like dragons.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Jaehaerys asked. 

Naerys smiled. She liked secrets. She liked them a lot. “Is it a big secret?”

“Grandfather says it won’t be a secret when we’re older.”

“A long secret?”

“Yeah,” her cousin said. “A long secret.”

Naerys nodded and she felt her cousin’s hand cup around her ear and his breath tickled and she giggled as the tickle ran up her back. “Grandfather said we’re going to get married when we’re bigger.”

Naerys laughed. 

“I’m serious,” he pouted. 

She couldn’t imagine marrying her cousin. “You can be my knight instead.”

Jaehaerys seemed to think for a moment because he didn’t say anything. “Okay,” he said.

“Now you’ve got to promise,” she told him. “Knights always make promises.”

“I promise to always protect you,” he said kissing the back of her hand like a real knight. “You are mine to protect. Now and always.”

Naerys laughed, the oath sounding silly coming from someone only a year older than she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your first glimpse of Aemon! He and Daemon are now the same age (9). But yes! Your first look! And he just found Lady! ❤️  
> Also, Uncle Renly to the rescue! He is going to play a part in this and he’s getting a love interest as well! ❤️
> 
> Jon and Sansa being concerned parents and Naerys getting to sleep with them! Jon knows they names of her toys! 😭
> 
> Some Jonsa conversation although the big answer to the big question was interrupted by the bowels of a six-year old. Even so, we’ll get some answers next chapter in Jon’s chapter! ❤️
> 
> Jaehaerys and Naerys talking. His motivations will be a little different going forward from what they were in the original, but they’ll still be similar. However, he’s only seven, so no need for worries when it comes to Naerys’ safety! 
> 
> Again, Jon POV next!


	9. Jon II

Jon and his wife, sadly, did not have time to speak properly the morning after they had sworn to have more children and their daughter’s strange case of sleepwalking. That morning would be a busy one as his sister, Rhaenys, would be returning to Dorne to be with the Martells and her daughter, Little Elia, although she was not so little as she had been when she was born. The girl was ten now and Jon could hardly believe it if he were being honest.

Sansa had gotten up early to help Naerys prepare for the day. While Jeyne Payne, his wife’s friend who had come North with her, often helped the children dress, Naerys seemed more comfortable with her mother getting her ready, still unsteady with other people touching her, although she liked Lady Jeyne in every other regard. 

Jon had to get up early as well to help his sister and the servants pack everything and to be certain that his sister didn’t leave anything behind. Of the three siblings, Rhaenys was the one who yearned for the great unknown and all that was out there. She had never much liked staying in King’s Landing and had spent many years traveling, only to return one day with a babe at her breast. He shuddered at the memory of their father’s anger. Of the three siblings, Rhaenys was also the one who didn’t seek their father’s approval often, rarely actually. While Jon and Aegon sought for and thrived on their father’s praise, Rhaenys appeared indifferent to it. 

“Are you certain you will be alright, Jon?” Rhaenys asked as she released him from a strong hug. “I do not want to leave if you think you still have need of me.”

“Arya and Viserys are here,” Jon told her. “They will be help enough, even if they bring two children and a third on the way.”

His sister chuckled. “Viserys will probably be of more help. I imagine Arya shall cause your girls to find their more wolfish nature.”

Jon snorted. “Of that I have no doubt. Besides,” he said. “I cannot imagine the chaos you and Arya and…” His daughter’s name was upon his tongue and it felt like a stone weighing against his stomach. Alysanne. His nose began to burn as his eyes grew watery. “Who knows what chaos you two would bring upon the Red Keep if you put your mind to it.”

His sister frowned and brought him in for another hug and Jon gladly accepted it. Rhaenys, for all her sense of adventure and daring, had always been the more empathetic of his siblings. She had always been the one to wipe away his tears and hug him when he was a boy. When his mother didn’t notice and when he felt as though he would not be allowed to seek such comfort from Princess Elia. Rhaenys, in her own way, was like a mother to him, even if she was only three years older than him. 

“I will be back in two months time,” she told him with a squeeze before letting him go. “Little Elia will be coming with me. Arianne and her family will be coming as well.”

“Really?” He had not seen Arianne in years, not since her wedding if he remembered correctly. Although, he knew that she kept in contact with Sansa more so than she did him. 

“Yes,” his sister said. “There are some… rumors, both personal and political that she worries about and wishes to speak to you and Sansa on.”

Jon nodded. “Of course it is not a call for merely calling.”

Rhaenys chuckled. “Of course not.” She patted his cheek gently. “I will see you soon, little brother.”

He smiled sadly. “I’ll see you soon.”

—

“Would you take a walk with me in the gardens, Sansa?”

His wife looked up at him as she settled Celia and Lydia in for their nap. Sansa was just as beautiful as she had been when they first married, when he first saw her, really. Her long hair of auburn fire and eyes of clear blue that he could easily drown in them if she asked him to. 

“You know I prefer being here when the girls sleep,” she said, looking back to their youngest as she ticked Lydia in. 

“We were interrupted before I could answer your question last night. I already asked Viserys to look over the children.” He offered her his hand. “Please. I wish to tell you what happened. If you choose to hate me still, I will not begrudge you for it.”

Sansa looked at his hand and took it. He helped her up and then tucked her hand into his arm as they headed from the nursery, nodding at Viserys as they left, and headed for the gardens. They walked in silence until they reached the privacy of the gardens, where their conversation might not be heard, although Jon was sure Lord Varys’ little birds were no doubt lurking somewhere. 

“Last night, you asked why I did not answer your letters,” he said, motioning for her to sit on a stone bench. She sat down gracefully and Jon sat down beside her. “The truth is, I was unaware of your letters until I received the letter from Maester Uther and was on my way back to the Red Keep.”

“What?” his wife asked. “What do you mean you were unaware of them?”

“The men I take on my travels rotate regularly. My father sends me out so often I do not wish to tire the men, nor keep them from their families. Renly, in truth, is the only man I have with me constantly. Other than that, I can only tell you the names of the men with me, but not if they are connected to any great houses.” He took Sansa’s hand in his own, but could not bring himself to look at her. “My men kept your letters, even letters from my brother and mother, from me. I was unaware of Alysanne…” Once more, the name was like led upon his tongue and he swallowed it down so that he might continue and let it sink deep into his chest. “I didn’t know that our daughters were sick until it was too late.”

His wife was silent for a moment. Then, she reached out her hand and lifted his face to hers. “You did not know?”

He shook his head. “If I had known, I would have come to you as soon as possible. Even if I had been at war, I would have returned to you immediately and sat with you and cared for our daughters in equal measure, but I was uninformed.”

“What has happened to the men who kept your letters?” she asked. 

“They say that such orders were passed on from the men who served me before and I cannot remember them. Renly, at the time, told me he was unaware of such orders. It was by luck he had even been the one to get Maester Uther’s letter. It had fallen out of a soldier’s pocket and that is how he came upon it.”

“You did not know.” Her voice was cracked and tears began to slide down her cheeks as she held her face in her hands and a broken sob came from her lips. “You did not know.”

Jon took no time in taking his wife into his arms and holding her, rubbing her back gently as she continued to cry. 

“Why did you not tell me?” she demanded. “Why did you let me hate you? Why would you allow me to?”

“If I had a better hold of my men, such a thing would not have happened. If I had been a more diligent husband and father, none of this would have happened.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and rocked her slightly. “You were in so much pain. If hating me helped you at all, I would gladly bear such feelings.”

Sansa fisted at his shirt and buried her face in his neck and they sat there, wrapped up in each other for what felt like forever. 

“Can we start over?” Jon asked her. “Can we begin again and let such things not be so uncertain?”

Sansa nodded, bringing her face up to look at him. “I cannot bear to hate you, Jon. You gave me my children and they are you and me in equal measure. Hating you would be hating parts of them, hating part of Alysanne, and I cannot— I cannot hate my children.”

Jon pressed his forehead to her own. “I cannot promise I won’t do something foolish and cause you to be angry with me, Viserys does the same with Arya. But I will promise to always be honest with you and to do my best to be the husband you deserve.” He sighed. “I know I am not the one you planned on when you left your life in the North. But I will endeavor to be a man you can be proud to call your husband.”

“And I will endeavor to be a woman you are proud to call wife.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “You are more than I could have ever hoped for.” He had never thought of marriage before he was betrothed to Sansa. “Let us begin this marriage anew.”

She nodded and they sat there for what felt like ages until, soon after, Viserys came to them saying Celia was determined to not return to bed until her mother sang her a lullaby. 

—

“Do you know of any reason as to why I never received letters from my family?” Jon asked Renly. 

Most of his family, at first, could not understand his friendship, if it could even be called that, with Renly Baratheon. While a grandson of Rhaelle Targaryen, and therefore a cousin to Jon and the others in some capacity, the rebellion of Renly’s older brother and said brother’s ultimate death by the hand of Jon’s father had left a stain upon the relationship between Targaryen and Baratheon that could never be fully washed clean. 

However, Jon and Renly both had trained under Sansa’s great uncle, the Blackfish. Both boys had gained a rather healthy rivalry. Jon had no doubt that Renly had followed Jon back to the Red Keep for no other reason but to annoy Jon and his brother, Stannis, to no end. 

Even so, Renly had become like an uncle to Jon’s children and Jon could hardly imagine not having Renly by his side, even though he had heard that Stannis wished for Renly to settle down with a wife and child, even if Jon were certain that was not the lot in life Renly preferred. 

“Can you think of any reason?” Jon continued. 

Renly was quiet for a moment as he seemed to mull over his answer. “I have no proof of these accusations, Jon,” Renly began. “I have nothing but my own intuition and experience.”

“I trust your judgement,” Jon said. “I trust you with my life, even.”

“That’s foolish,” Renly said. “For all you know I might be here to exact revenge upon your family for Robert’s death.”

“Then you are a poor assassin,” Jon said. “You have caught me at my weakest moments many times before this, a moment where I wear no sword. I doubt you are an assassin.”

“True enough,” Renly laughed. “I find the world would be rather boring without you anyway.”

Jon smiled before becoming serious once more. “The letters.”

“I believe Princess Daenerys is the reason your letters have not been given to you.” Jon opened his mouth but Renly continued. “I have no evidence, but I know the princess was not happy in your marriage to Sansa and I have no doubt she wishes for some sort of separations since you and Sansa have yet to have a son of your own.”

“Dany?” Jon asked. His aunt was like a sister to him, just as his sister was like a mother in some ways. She had been a good friend to him and he had always sought to protect her, finding her and Viserys to be the odd ones out since they had to live their lives without their true mother beside them. “Why would Dany want me to stay away from Sansa?”

“The same reason Margaery had not been truly kind to Sansa when she was betrothed to Aegon.”

Jon narrowed his eyes. It could not be and yet… it made sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brother and sister moment between Jon and Rhaenys! ❤️
> 
> Sansa learns the truth!
> 
> Renly reveals his suspicions about Dany!


	10. Daenerys II

Daenerys smiled as Jon began to spend more time with her. He began to ride with her outside of King’s Landing and they would hunt with a few Targaryen soldiers as their guards. It made Daenerys’ blood run hot with want every time she rode with him, the heat of the horse between her legs and sometimes she could imagine it was Jon there. She could imagine it, imagine him and it filled her nightly fantasies with such ecstasy. 

“I just need to get out more,” Jon had told her. He had looked down at his feet. “I suppose I’m going stir crazy.”

Daenerys had merely smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek and pressed a hand to his arm. “Of course,” she had told him. “Let me distract you.”

If only Jon weren’t so noble. Perhaps things would be easier. If she got with child quickly, her brother would have to allow for the marriage. Rhaegar so rarely denied Daenerys anything. Surely he would approve of it to save her honor, but Jon was too honorable to bed her without certainty and he was too honorable to bed her while married to that woman. 

Even so, thoughts of him releasing his inner dragon above her set her body alight with want. 

Occasionally, however, in their moments of togetherness and near aloneness, she could feel Jon withdraw. A strong sense of melancholy seemed to overtake him and Daenerys felt her mood sour each time it did. 

“Forgive me, Dany,” he would say quietly. “I just… I remember always promising to go out riding with Alys. Remembering how I told her I would take her out further and further out here. But she was so young, I feared her coming out too far and getting hurt.” His grey eyes grew pained. “She died without ever truly being able to see the world.”

“ _Alysanne,_ ” Daenerys corrected. Why must they all wish to make her name sound so Northern? “I’m sure she never begrudged you for it.” She strokes his hair and relished in the feel of it between her fingers. “You were the best father to her you could be.”

She wrapped her arms around him, but he remained stiff to her touch. 

How cold and frigid his wife must be for him to be unable to open up to the Stark girl? Could the woman not even comfort Jon properly?

If Daenerys did not want her first time with Jon to be special, she would let her dress slip from her shoulders and untie his laces so that he might find solace in her body on the forest floor. Daenerys knew that it would please him, the way her body had been made for him and only him, unsullied by thoughts or touches of another man. 

His wife once had thoughts of Aegon, but Daenerys had only ever had thoughts of Jon.

How she would please him. How she would bring out the dragon in him, bringing out the possessiveness she knew ran deep into his veins. 

However, Daenerys wished for their first time to be in a bed of black silk where she might shine under him in all her Targaryen splendor. She would just have to wait and basked in the heat of him in her arms as he mourned his child. His, for Alysanne would and should never be claimed by the Stark woman. She was too cold for someone who had been so filled with the fire of dragons. 

—

Daenerys was annoyed as she watched Jon sit with his family during the picnic Princess Elia decided to organize for the family to all get together. Daenerys sat with Lyanna, hoping that Jon would spend time with his mother but, instead, he sat with his family. Celia was playing with Brandon and Ser Podrick’s children, Lyarra and Cedrick. Viserys’ daughter, Jenny, was playing with Lydia while the parents sat together. 

Jon had Naerys in his lap. The blind girl had something that vaguely looked like a puzzle in her hands, no doubt something that Viserys or the girl’s aunt brought her on one of her travels, or perhaps something Rhaenys had left behind for her. Naerys was leaning her head against her father’s chest as he talked with the Stark girls and Viserys. Jon was stroking her hair and occasionally rubbing her back and Daenerys could see that Naerys seemed happy in her father’s arms. 

It made Daenerys’ heart ache that Naerys did not look more Valyrian. At least then Daenerys would be able to envision that the girl was her own daughter. She would be better able to even if Naerys took more after Jon, but instead, Naerys took after her mother and that made her blood boil. 

She glared at the Stark girl who seemed to sense her anger. Daenerys turned away just as Jon began to turn in her direction as well.

At the very least she knew Jon to be a good father. He would be a great one once she gave him a son or two. He would dote on her and her children far more than he did on Sansa or her children when the mood hit him. 

However, in time, she would become a better mother to the children Jon already had. She would not simper and restrict them to the dull work the Stark girl seemed to thrive on. No, Daenerys would raise them to be queens in their own right and true women to be worthy of the Targaryen name. 

Even so, it hurt to see Jon paying so close attention to the Stark girl and her children. But, it mattered not. Daenerys had no doubt it was to ease the blow of separating from her or taking Daenerys as his true wife. 

—

“Dany.”

She turned and was a little shocked to see Viserys approach her. Her older brother had always been rather distant with everyone except Rhaenys. The two of them had been as thick as thieves with the Stark girls being the only two who seemed to be allowed in their fold. Even so, Viserys had always doted one Daenerys when she was a girl. He had always been rather protective of her at times as well. Even so, he had grown so distant since he had left and started his own family. But, to be fair, he had never been one for politics anyway. 

“It’s been so long, Viserys,” she said. 

He gave her a lopsided smile, but it turned into an even line soon after. “Dany, there’s something I wish to discuss.”

Her interest was peaked. “What is it?”

“It’s about Sansa.”

Daenerys instantly soured. “What on earth do you need to tell me about _her_?”

Her brother frowned. “ _This._ This is what I need to talk about.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Dany, she just lost her daughter. You’ve been treating her so coldly, even rudely. I know you are not a mother yet and I pray to all the gods that you never have to experience such loss, but it is a grave loss and Sansa deserves your respect and kindness. Even Queen Lyanna, who was never too fond of her, has treated her with kindness and compassion. Why can’t you?”

“She is hardly the first woman to lose a child,” Daenerys said, lifting her chin. “I doubt she will be the last. Besides, Mother lost plenty of children and still continued onward. She should learn to handle loss more gracefully anyway.”

“ _Gracefully_ ,” Viserys repeated. “Dany, you can’t be serious.”

“I am,” she said. “She looks up to Princess Elia and should take cues of how to handle loss from her.”

Viserys’ eyes narrowed. “Elia has never lost a child. What are you talking about?”

“Just as Rhaegar set Princess Elia aside, so should Jon put the Stark girl aside.”

“Sansa,” Viserys said. “Her name is Sansa. And what on earth are you talking about?”

“She has yet to give him a son despite their many years of marriage. Perhaps it would be best to set her aside and marry a Targaryen, as he should have from the beginning, had Aegon not interfered.”

Viserys’ mouth opened and he looked like a fish. “Are you mad?!” he shouted. “Jon would never leave Sansa, he loves her and their children. He would never _set her aside_. Have you gone mad?”

“He _loves_ me, Viserys,” she told him, putting her hand on his arm. “He is only doing his _duty_ to her.”

Her brother stepped away. “I was aware you once had feelings for him, but I thought you had moved on from such things. Dany, he’s happy.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “If you truly still love him as more than a nephew or brother, then you need to move on. He’s _happy_. This isn’t good for you Dany. You need to move on, he will never be yours. Perhaps you could go to Dorne and visit Rhaenys, perhaps meet a Dornishman, or go to the Stormlands and find someone from there, it just cannot be Jon.”

“Jon will never be happy with _that woman_ ,” Daenerys said, stepping into her brother’s space and glaring at him. He flinched slightly. “She has no regard for him at all, it is only made worse by her letters not getting to him. What little chance they had is gone forever.”

Viserys stood straighter. “How do you know about the letters?”

Daenerys lifted her chin. “I had them kept from him. He is always off on important business for our brother and he need not be bothered with that woman’s day to day ramblings of unimportant things.”

“ _Unimportant._ ” Viserys grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Alysanne was _dying_! He almost lost his chance to say goodbye to his daughter because of your selfishness!”

“I did not mean for him to almost miss it.” She yanked herself away from his grip. “But it matters not because it has all worked out in the end and soon the true crown princess of our family shall be named and our line will no longer suffer from Stark blood.”

Viserys bristled, but Daenerys didn’t care and she stormed away angry that her brother did not understand her. 

—

“Did you keep my wife’s letters from me?!” Jon stormed into Daenerys’ rooms. 

She was shocked by his entrance and even more shocked by his anger as he grabbed her by the shoulders. 

“Jon—”

“Did you order for Sansa’s letters to be kept from me?!” He roared. It was marvelous. Like a true dragon. Yet, it was aimed at her and it made Daenerys squirm ever so slightly, feeling heat twist in her belly and she could feel herself tighten into a spring. “Do you?!”

“You had more important things to do,” she told him calmly, enjoying the fire in his eyes. His passion was all directed at her. 

“I almost missed my daughter!” He shouted. “I almost missed my chance to say goodbye! My daughter could have died thinking I didn’t love her!”

“Jon.”

Daenerys’ gaze snapped to the Stark girl, _Sansa,_ and seethed at the very fact that she had entered Daenerys’ chambers.

At his wife’s touch, Jon seemed to be soothed and he let Daenerys go and stepped back. He took a deep breath before he spoke. His eyes were a cold grey and Daenerys felt a chill run down her spine.

“I will never forgive you, Dany,” he growled. She stiffened at his words and the venom they held. “I shall never forgive you for as long as I live. I renounce any familial or brotherly feelings I once had for you and damn all the gods that put you on my path. I shall be the dutiful nephew and speak to you in public when needed, but in private, you will be nothing but a stranger to me.” His lips curled into a snarl. “I will not allow you to poison my marriage and will have no more of you, Daenerys.” She felt utter rage as the Stark girl had the nerve to place her hand on Jon’s arm. “Whatever affection I may have held for you as my sister is gone. Good day, Aunt Daenerys.”

He took his wife’s hand and stormed away, slamming the door behind him. 

The way Jon addresses her echoed in her mind. _Aunt Daenerys._ The utter distance of that title. The chasm it spread between them. 

She grabbed the nearest vase, a gift from some Essosi dignitary that had attempted to woo her, and smashed it against the floor. She gave out a loud shriek and pulled at her elaborate braids. Daenerys had no doubt that word of her humiliation would spread about the keep. 

How dare that pathetic woman play victim to garner Jon’s sympathies! How dare she prey on Jon’s noble nature. 

“Oh, she is indeed a wolf,” Daenerys hissed. “A wolf that has hidden herself as a pretty little dove.” 

How dare that wolven whore turn Jon against her!

“He is mine!” she roared. Tears began to bubble in her vision as her world began to spin. A knot formed in her throat as she screamed. 

Jon was hers. 

It had always been the two of them together. He had always been on her side in everything. 

“This is all her fault,” Daenerys growled.

She prowled about her room to think. She needed to think of a way for Jon to see reason once more, that it was okay to set his wife aside and take her on as well. Or let her be his Visenya, his duty to show his continued support to his heir. Daenerys could be his Rhaenys, his marriage for love. For every one night he feels he must spend with the whore, he would spend nine with Daenerys. 

But the Stark girl could not stay. 

Daenerys could convince Rhaegar to let the girl leave for a visit to the North when her brother’s party returns home. Jon would remain behind, of course, since he had renounced traveling. He would see how good it could be when the whore was not around to fill his head with sweet words that dropped venom upon her and Jon’s relationship. She was the reason Jon had pulled away. He was always too honorable. Too honorable to break any vow. 

Jon would stay in the Red Keep, he was too worried about his little dragons to leave. 

Jon was hers and she would not let him go. 

A dragon does not concern itself with sheep, much less wolves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon was just testing the waters to see what Dany would do. He was very much aware of this, as was Sansa on his plans. He more specifically wanted to see if she felt ANY remorse in what happened with Alysanne. 
> 
> Viserys is having none of Dany’s games. None.
> 
> Jon is now done as well.


	11. Arianne II

Arianne sat in on one of Maester Caleotte’s many history lessons with her sons. 

She trusted the maester implicitly. The man was very old, having served when Arianne’s grandmother ruled Dorne, but he was a good man who sought the betterment of the Martells and their children, never discriminating the trueborn children from the bastards. His care for her father and his gout, as well as his care for Joffrey’s son, Arthur, and the boy’s curved spine, endeared him to everyone in the family. 

The lesson she sat in on was about their house’s relationship with the Targaryen’s beginning with Aegon the Conqueror to Daeron Targaryen. 

“Why have the Martells not been more welcomed by the Targaryens?” Daemon asked. “Is our blood not the same?”

“They married each other to the point you can’t see a drop of Dornish mood in them,” Olyvar said. Arianne’s oldest and her heir was always very mindful of his brother’s curiosity and always sought to give the boy answers, as was his duty as Daemon’s older brother. If he were not Arianne’s heir, Olyvar would have the makings of a good maester. 

“The prince is correct,” Maester Caleotte said. “The Targaryens have long preferred blood purity over making alliances through marriage.”

Daemon’s face scrunched up in thought and Arianne had to keep herself from laughing. Waymar made the same exact expression on many occasions. While both her sons took more after her in appearance, they had their father’s heart and mannerisms. 

“It does not change the fact that we are family,” Daemon said. “Yet they used Princess Elia against us during the rebellion and held her and Aunt Rhaenys and Prince Aegon hostage to keep our loyalty.” He looked so very upset over the thought of it. “We were family, would we not have helped regardless?”

The maester sighed. “Since we did not fully believe that King Rhaegar had run off with Queen Lyanna at the time, we most likely would, but now we shall never really know.”

Daemon folded his arms. “If I was asked to help defend the princesses,” he said. “I would, without question.”

Arianne smiled. Perhaps there was some Tully in her husband. He insisted there wasn’t, but it still made Arianne laugh just a bit. Her son may as well be a fish for how firmly he puts his family before his duty and honor. At least, he did as much as any nine-year-old was able to. 

—

Arianne was thrilled when Rhaenys finally returned to Sunspear. Little Elia was happy as well. No one could keep the little girl from squealing in delight and running to her mother and throwing herself into Rhaenys’ arms. But now, the children were off playing in the Water Gardens as Arianne and her cousin lounged after Rhaenys had spent the past week with her daughter, the two becoming easily reacquainted with one another again. 

“Lord Brandon Stark and his wife Meera are coming to King’s Landing with their two small children,” Rhaenys said, which was certainly news to Arianne.

“Truly?” she asked, her brow raised. “I can’t think of any Stark besides Arya visiting so far south since the rebellion.”

Rhaenys nodded. “Apparently Lord Robb wanted to come, but his youngest had only recently gotten over being sick himself. So, Lord Brandon is coming in his brother’s stead.”

Arianne thought for a moment. “Having another Northerner, especially a Stark, will be an interesting thing to have in the capital. Will he be staying for Naerys and Al—for the princess’ nameday? It’s in three months, is it not?”

“I do not know if that is the plan, but it would be nice for Sansa to have more family by her side.” Rhaenys gave a soft sigh. 

“How is she?”

“She was so very lost. She barely ate anything and she looked like a ghost. Jon did his best, but you know their relationship has always been rather strained.”

Arianne nodded. She had become friends with Sansa almost immediately upon their first meeting. She had been there for the birth of all of Sansa’s children, being there when Arya could not, and offering her advice in the was of raising an heir when it came to Naerys. The two women were close, with Rhaenys and Jeyne filling out the rest of their friend group rather easily. 

“That reminds me,” Arianne said, pulling out a letter she had received just that morning. “I received a letter from Viserys. I have not read it yet as it was not marked urgent, but I thought we might look it over together. Viserys rarely writes, but when he does, there is usually some mark of importance.”

Rhaenys nodded and they sat up and closer together to pour over its contents. 

_Dear Arianne,_

_I have no doubt Rhaenys is with you, so I say my greetings to her as well. If she is not with you, then I shall endure your teasing laughter in your next letter._

Arianne smiled. Viserys had always been a rather quiet man who often withdrew from embarrassing situations, but since his marriage to Arya, he had come out of his shell. But Arianne doubted much could be viewed as embarrassing when compared to Arya’s many antics and bawdy humor. 

_I write to tell you of a recent development in my good sister and nephew’s relationship. Arya wanted to be the one to write you, but I reviewed the letter since she can often write rather illegibly when she is excited (and she’s rather thrilled by the news), but the letter she had written was, in fact, illegible with names being the only thing to pop out. Arya begrudgingly allowed me to have the honor of writing you first, but I have no doubt she will write to you again once she has had better time to settle upon the news._

_Jon has broken off any private contact with Daenerys and only acknowledges her when they are in public and it is expected of him. Queen Lyanna has also broken her support of the princess, siding, for once, with her niece. My brother has remained silent on the subject, but I have seen him give Sansa more favor than usual, so that might be his way of showing support._

“I can’t imagine my aunt would be thrilled by such a thing,” Rhaenys said. “Dany has always been rather close to Jon. I thought once she would try for a marriage, but I thought perhaps I had misread their closeness. Even so, she had always rather enjoyed Jon’s attention. She rarely acknowledged my presence and Aegon all but gave up on including her in his own games when we were children.”

“She must have done something terrible to warrant Jon’s apathy,” Arianne said. “He would never do such a thing unwarranted.”

_It has come to our knowledge that Dany had ordered Jon’s original guards, who would pass down the orders to the next, to not give Jon Sansa’s letters when he was away. Because of this, Jon had no knowledge of Alysanne’s illness until Maester Uther’s letter was found by Ser Renly, who had been unaware of such orders._

Arianne dropped the letter, her mouth open in shock. Daenerys had ordered Sansa’s letters to be kept from Jon. Rhaenys picked up the letter and continued to read aloud. 

“ _Jon confronted Daenerys and she confessed to it as she confessed to me earlier,”_ Rhaenys read. _“While I will always love my sister, I find, as a father, I cannot forgive her for keeping Jon away from Alysanne when he could have been allowed to be by her side for much longer._ He gives his love and that is the end of the letter.”

Arianne seethed. “How dare she do something so cruel. I cannot—” She could not even finish the sentence. “It is utterly disgusting and horrible.”

“Dany isn’t a parent so she couldn’t possibly understand, but it changes nothing.” Rhaenys shook her head. “We must keep an eye on her for I do not trust her to stay silent. She has always been rather spoiled. I doubt she will enjoy seeing another being treated with such care.”

“I shall write to Jon at once,” Arianne said. “Daenerys’ actions are similar to what the Mad King did to Queen Rhaella and Viserys when he was a boy.”

Rhaenys frowned. “I had not thought of that, but you are right. Gods help us all.”

—

While Arianne enjoyed riding atop her husband, she also enjoyed the feel of his body above her own. She enjoyed feeling the ripple of his muscles along his back as he thrust into her, the way he seemed to lose himself inside her. Waymar was always a rather reserved man and she was the only one allowed to see this wild, brutish side of him. 

“Gods, Arianne,” he groaned as she shifted ever so slightly to slide her fingers between them so that he might have more to thrust into. She looked up at him through half lidded eyes and heat continued to coil in her belly at the sight of his kiss bruised lips and the utter lust that filled his eyes. 

She pushed him onto his back and began to ride him just as she started to peak and he happily gave her the power as she began to ride him with smooth, steady rolls of her hips, grinding into him at just the right spot. 

“Sometimes I think you are the Maiden reborn when I see you like this,” he said as his hands rubbed under her thighs to encourage her movement. 

Arianne smirked and lifted herself just enough to slam down back onto him and that was all it took for him to lose himself and spill inside her. “Do not refer to me as the Maiden when you are buried so deep inside me, my love,” she said, leaning down to kiss at his neck until he grew soft inside her. Arianne rolled off him and curled into Waymar’s side. “I am only a woman.”

“There is nothing _only_ about you, my heart,” he said, nuzzling his face into her hair. “If you are _only_ a woman, then I am but a humble acolyte whose only duty is to worship you.”

She smacked his chest lightly and giggled. Waymar took the hand that smacked him and pressed her buckles to his lips. 

—

“Arianne.”

At the strain in her husband’s voice, she turned and saw her husband holding an opened letter. It must have been why someone came to their door knocking. “What is it?”

“It’s from Lady Shireen,” he said. 

Arianne blinked. “But she never writes—”

“I know,” he said. “I had thought my father might be writing on her behalf, but now…” he opened the letter and began to read. “ _Waymar,”_ he began. _“I write to you and beg for your assistance. Someone has been trying to poison my husband, your cousin, Robin. At first I thought he was merely ill, but now I fear it is not a natural thing that has turned my husband into such a state. People forget that I spent a good portion of my childhood in the company of maester’s due to my condition and recognize the correct smells of herbs and oils. I had been too busy tending to little Arwen and Mathos that I had little time to tend to him, but sweet Mya had been able to take care of the children and I discovered something wrong with the medicine given to Robin. Waymar, I am so very afraid. So very afraid that someone is trying to unseat House Arryn from power in the Vale. I have written to you and my Uncle Renly to pass the news onto Prince Jon and his wife, for I know the king is not fond of my father and I doubt he will offer me aid himself. Please, come if you can. I am so very afraid. I am afraid for my son most of all. Please, come or offer, very publically, to foster my children in Sunspear, for I know not where my enemies might lie._ ”

Arianne had gone to her husband as he read. The poor girl’s hand was shaken and she knew that the Baratheon girl had always had the most elegant script. “Write to Jon,” Arianne said. “He has promised to stay with Sansa for the time being. Tell Jon you will go in his stead and only ask for aid should he need it.”

Waymar nodded. “I do not like this. House Arryn is connected to the Baratheons, Starks, Tullys, Targaryens, and our own house. If someone is going to start unrest without it being, at first, a major problem, causing unrest in the Vale would be the way to go.”

Arianne gripped her husband’s wrists and continued to look over the letter. A storm was brewing and Arianne wondered if the shift in the air was the same everyone felt when Rhaegar crowned Lyanna instead of Elia.


	12. Elia I

Although Elia never held the title of queen, many people deferred to her as though she were. Even Rhaegar, in all of his injustice to her, often deferred to her when it came to matters of ruling. Sometimes she could still hear her mother’s voice in her head at night. 

_ Elia was born to be queen.  _

However, Elia did not think anyone was born to rule. If one was born to rule, then the people would not suffer. Wars would not happen. Dances of dragons would not cast shadows upon the land and fire upon the fields. Rulers were not born, they were made. 

Every decision a person of noble birth made was what led them on the path of being a good leader, of being a good king or queen. 

Elia was not born to be queen, but she made the right decisions to make her into a good one, even if the title would never be hers. 

She wonders, though, how her family might have ended up had she been allowed to be queen, had a Martell woman taken the throne with Rhaegar instead of Lyanna. She wondered if her son would have found more pride in his Dornish heritage or if his pride for the Targaryen would have always overpowered it. She wondered if she might have had a better influence on Daenerys if she had been queen. She wondered if Viserys would have been more confident in his own skin. She wondered if Rhaenys would have felt more at home in the Red Keep. She wondered if Jon would have had the same need to feel useful in everything he did. 

She wondered, but it was never enough to dwell on the what ifs. Rhaegar had put too much stock in the what ifs and it had led to thousands dying. 

Now, all Elia could do was try and ease the tensions that had begun to form within the royal family. 

When she learned what Daenerys had done, the first thing Elia felt was a motherly rage. She had visited Naerys and Alysanne as often as she could, but Maester Uther did not like her staying for too long, worried about her own health as well. But Elia had seen enough. She could still remember Alysanne asking in her small voice where her father was and Sansa promising her little girl that her father would be there soon. It broke Elia’s heart that Jon almost missed his daughter completely and for no other reason but another woman’s selfish obsession.

Everyone found themselves angry and resentful towards Daenerys and it only caused more fractures within the family because of it, yet it healed some as well. 

Aegon and Jon were speaking more frequently to one another, more so than they had in years. Yet, there had been no healing between her son and Sansa or Margaery with anyone. Margaery seemed to be the only one to take Daenerys’ side, but Elia was unsure if it was because the Tyrell woman thought someone needed to be by her side when she had no one else or if she truly thought Daenerys was in the right. Elia’s good daughter never seemed to specify. 

Cracks were beginning to appear in the Targaryen facade and Elia wondered how long it would be before the world could see them more clearly. 

—

Elia found Arya highly amusing. 

While Sansa has suffered the same restraint and training Elia had in her youth, Arya had all the bounding confidence and swagger that Elia recalled Oberyn having. The youngest of the Stark girls reminded Elia so much of her younger brother that the Dornish woman secretly dreaded the day where the two would meet. Oh the chaos that would ensue. It would be a delightful chaos, but chaos all the same. 

Currently, Arya was sitting with Elia venting her frustration about what Daenerys had done. 

Viserys, Elia knew, was always a little terrified of his wife, as every husband should be to some degree, but Arya was a fiercely protective woman when it came to her family and especially when it came to her sister. The two women had married into the same family, but one married into a set of rules while the other married into freedom. 

Arya was also pregnant, which meant every ounce of emotion was heightened to a whole other level. 

“She’s lucky she’s a Targaryen,” Arya muttered. “If she wasn’t, she would have a whole lot more to worry about than Jon simply not talking to her anymore.”

“She’s facing her own punishments,” Elia said, patting her on the hand. “She brought this upon herself. Daenerys made her bed, now she’s just lying in it.”

Arya frowned. “I still don’t like it. She should be sent to Dragonstone, exiled privately. I will never forgive her for what she did to Sansa. To Alysanne. To any of them.”

“No one is asking you to forgive her. Your anger is well placed. However, I do ask that you breathe. It can’t be good for the baby to be so worked up.”

Arya sighed and rubbed her rounding belly. “It isn’t. Maester Uther says I need to calm down a bit more, maybe practice some  _ meditation _ .” She said the final word with an eye roll. “But I’ll go stir crazy if I just sit and do nothing.”

“It probably doesn’t help that Viserys is hovering as usual,” Elia said with understanding. 

Arya nodded. “I’ve given him two healthy children while also remaining perfectly healthy myself. I wish he would calm down more.”

“To be fair,” Elia said. “Viserys didn’t have the best examples of childbirth when he was a boy. His mother and all her miscarriages and then her subsequent death after giving birth to Daenerys. My own difficulties. Lyanna’s inability to have more children after Jon. He’s just worried.”

At that, Arya smiled. “Yeah, he is. It makes the sex pretty sweet too.”

Elia chuckled and shook her head. She had no doubt that Viserys’ ears were burning red at that very moment. 

—

Elia received a letter from Dorne and was pleasantly surprised to see it was from her older brother along with one from her nephew Joffrey. 

_ Dearest sister, _

_ I am writing to you so that you might be aware of my intention of seeking a betrothal between Princess Naerys Targaryen and my grandson Prince Daemon Martell.  _

_ I had thoughts of perhaps betrothing her to Olyvar, but he is to be Arianne’s heir and, since Rhaegar has insisted that the princess remain her father’s heir, I must insist on such a betrothment.  _

_ However, although I believe you will find the betrothment agreeable, I worry that the king may not. I fear Rhaegar is planning something and I fear it’s repercussions. We cannot handle another rebellion and I worry for your safety as well as all the children you claim as your grandchildren.  _

_ In other news, Waymar should have sent a letter to Jon already, but I wish to include you on the information. Lady Shireen Arryn believes that someone is trying to poison her husband, Lord Robin Arryn. If such accusations are true, I worry for the Targaryen reputation. Everyone knows that the lady’s father, Stannis, has opposed the Targaryen rule since his brother’s death and that the late Jon Arryn never participated in politics after the failed rebellion. I fear that some might believe it is Targaryen influence that is leading to the brewing storm in the Eyrie.  _

_ Take care, Elia. I fear another war might be coming.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Doran  _

She then looked over the letter sent by her nephew Joffrey. 

_ Dear Aunt Elia, _

_ I write to you to propose the possibility of my daughter fostering in the Red Keep under you. While few fathers wish to send their little girls away from them, I would feel much better if you were the woman of note that Joanna had as an example instead of my mother.  _

_ It appears that the Lannisters may be planning something and I wish to have no part of it. Considering my other refers to me as a snake, I doubt that any consider me enough of a lion to be included in their plans regardless.  _

_ I would be more at ease if Joanna was in the capital. Perhaps we could spin it as a way for her to begin training as Princess Naerys’ future court ladies. I, however, also think it would be a good way to hear what some of the others in the Keep are saying. As a newcomer, plenty of players may wish to sink their claws into her, something I’m sure you will protect her from, but I believe you could use her as one of your birds instead of relying on Lord Varys.  _

_ Give me your reply when you are able.  _

_ Joanna needs to be away from my mother as soon as possible. I do not trust her and am thankful she finds little use for Arthur due to his deformity or Amyra since she looks utterly Dornish. Joanna is the child I’m worried about when it comes to my mother’s interest.  _

_ I hope you are well, dear aunt, and wish to hear from you soon.  _

_ Your favorite nephew, _

_ Joffrey _

_ P.S. You can tell Quentyn and Trystane that as well.  _

Elia smiled. Looks like pieces were beginning to move and a new game was about to begin. 

—

She strokes Naerys’ red hair as the girl sat in Elia’s lap. Although Naerys was not Elia’s granddaughter, she enjoyed the little girl’s presence. There was something about the girl that reminded her of Queen Rhaella. She was soft spoken and plenty of the older servants remarked the same thing. Such a gentle soul. Such a caring one as well. There was something about her that seemed to calm them all in one way or another. 

“I dream about snow,” Naerys told her as they sat in the gardens. Elia was determined for the girl to get more fresh air and Rhaella’s garden was the perfect place to get it. 

“And how do you know of snow, little fish?” Elia asked gently. 

“It’s like sand, but cold and it leaves footprints in it and there’s no water to wash it away.”

The Dornish woman chuckled. That was a good way of describing it for one who had never felt and would never see it. 

“What else do you dream of?”

“A wolf pup that looks like snow with eyes like fire. Tents of fur and colored like wet sand. Of people dressed in clothes like that too.”

Elia hummed and rubbed Naerys’ hand in her own and then frowned. “Naerys, what is this?”

The girl’s hands were slightly blistered and calluses were beginning to form on the palms of her hands. 

Naerys shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “I wake up and my hands hurt.”

Elia narrowed her eyes before taking Naerys to Maester Uther to look after the girl’s hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you guys think of Elia’s POV? Was it okay?


	13. Renly I

When Renly first met Prince Jon, he wasn’t impressed. This was the child that the king went to war for, willing to kill Renly’s oldest brother for. Renly has expected a handsome Targaryen looking prince with all the charisma his father had once been known for. Instead, Renly met a sullen youth who was bumbling in his interactions with women equal to his station and a boy who was well adept at a sword, but appeared to prefer to not use it. 

The two had developed a healthy rivalry as they squired under Brynden Tully. The Blackfish had been a merciless master when it came to their training and seemed to encourage the budding animosity between them. 

Jon and Renly clashed constantly, even outside of sparring. Renly was popular with people in a loud and, he will admit, obnoxious way. Jon was quiet, but his sense of leadership was pronounced and people trusted in him easily. Jon got along well with the small folk on a personal level, while Renly could walk circles around the nobility in the Vale. However, if anyone made a comment about Renly’s preferences in bed, they would find themselves with a fist to the face courtesy of the prince. If anyone commented on the prince’s initial bastard status, they would find themselves with a foot before their own and their face smacking against the ground. 

Renly could barely remember Robert, being barely six when his brother was killed, and was never that close to Stannis. With Jon, however, Renly wondered if that was what having a brother felt like. 

It was only natural, then, that Renly would follow Jon back to the Red Keep. 

Stannis had, naturally, been pissed at the whole thing. But Renly refused to let his brother’s likes and dislikes dictate how he behaved. Jon wasn’t his father and shouldn’t be held responsible for what the king and queen had done to their family. 

Even if he could remember Robert, Renly doubted that he could bring himself to hate Jon. The prince was simply a nice person. 

Then, Lady Sansa came along and Renly could see, almost immediately, that Jon thought he was unworthy and did the whole self-sacrificing fool spiel. Renly tried to encourage him to stay in the Red Keep more, but he knew the place had always been off to Jon because it felt like Princess Elia had more of a hand in the place and Jon felt guilt for something he had no choice in. 

Then there were the children. First the twins then Celia then Lydia. Being with those girls made him wish, for a tiny moment, that he had any interest in women. To be fair, he didn’t really have to deal with nightmares or soiled clothes. However, he loved those girls dearly and would do anything for them. 

He would do plenty for his friend and prince’s family. Anything. Because, deep down, Renly knew Jon would do anything for him too. 

—

Renly shifted Naerys and Lydia on opposite hips as Celia was screaming with Cedric down the hall. The boy’s sister, Lyarra, was holding onto her father’s hand. Podrick called after the young children to slow down and to pace themselves. 

While Podrick’s wife, Lady Jeyne, was resting after spending the nig before apparently trying to calm their son down from a temper tantrum, Renly knew Jon and Sansa were up to more marital things than he cared to think about. This left Renly and Podrick to take care of the children for a moment. 

Lydia was currently fisting at the short hair of his beard with her other thumb in her mouth, while Naerys was resting her head on his shoulder. Although he couldn’t feel it through the armor, he could see that she was tracing the antlers embossed in the metal. 

Renly adored the children, especially the girls. They were sweet and innocent. 

Yet, there was a sort of hollowness in their play. There was a child missing. Even though it had been months now, he still looked about worriedly for Alysanne, thinking she had run too far off, that she was hiding, waiting for one of them to find her. There seemed to be a shift in the way the children played. Either there was a gaping hole where Alysanne should have been or they tried to fill the space with themselves, only to find that they don’t quite fit in the right way. 

Celia would have barely any memory at all of her sister, maybe just remembering an extra child that used to play with them. Lydia wouldn’t have any memories of her sister. None at all. And it broke Renly’s heart. 

He wondered if this was how Stannis felt about him and Robert. Renly wondered if he had ever tried to fill the hole that Robert left behind. He wondered.

He wondered, but, even so, he knew he had no answers. 

—

“Ser Renly.”

“Ser Loras.”

The two had shared a night or two in the past. They were both hot blooded men afterall, but beyond that, they held each other in little regard. 

Loras was a Tyrell through and through, taking part in the faction that supported Prince Aegon, even though he almost sent the realms into another civil war. Renly was on the side that supported Jon as the crown prince as well as his children. 

They were united in their preference for men, but that was all. The Tyrells sought power for themselves while Renly preferred to stand in the shadows to support the right player. 

He held too much loyalty for Jon to be swayed by another man’s cock. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Renly asked. 

“I hear that there are talks of engagement for the little fish.”

Renly frowned, his eyes narrowed. Since Naerys’ blindness, plenty of people had come to speak about whom the girl might marry. Jon and Sansa, of course, refused to broach the subject considering the girl was only six, seven soon, but still only six. 

“I have heard no such talk,” Renly lied. 

“You’re better than that, Ser Renly. It’s alright to speak with me comfortably.”

“I know it’s alright, I just prefer not to.” It was Ser Loras’ turn to frown. “I think you’re confused on what you're asking, Ser.”

“If you wish to know whether my prince and princess have thought of the possibility of your nephew becoming their daughter’s  _ consort _ , I’ll be pleased to tell you that you need not worry. It will never happen.”

“You think a blind girl is capable of being our queen?”

“You think your sister would do much better. She does enjoy turning a blind eye to people’s faults.” Renly stepped forward. “I shall give you a fair warning, Princess Daenerys has lost most favor within the royal family. I would sever ties with her.” He turned away. “Good afternoon, Ser. It was rather tedious to see you.”

—

Renly sat at the edge of the fountain, his feet in the water as the eldest little princess squealed happily in the water. The maester said it was good practice for her to be in water since she would be more careful anyway about how she walked. 

Naerys had always prefered water. It’s why people called her  _ little fish.  _ Most of the other children had dreaded bath time with Alysanne, in particular, causing such a fit that she would go red in the face over it. Naerys, on the other hand, relished in the water and seemed perfectly happy to be in the water, even holding on to the edge of the large tub to let herself float so she could kick her legs for fun. It was one of the rare moments that the girl was particularly messy. 

“Uncle Renly!” she shouted cheerily. 

He glanced up and smiled to see that she had found one of the “treasures” the maester had set for her to find. They were just small stones placed around the pool. She had to be careful when it came to walking, so these small lessons helped. 

“Can you walk to me, Princess?” he asked. 

Naerys came over to him carefully. She stuck out her tongue in concentration and Renly had to withhold a laugh. Jon had made a similar face when they were younger before the Blackfish trained it out of him. The princess put her hand on his shoulder and held out her stone. When he said she could, she dropped the stone into his hand and he placed it with the other two stones she had already found. 

Renly took her hands in his. “Good job, Princess.”

He frowned then, feeling the slight roughness in her hands. Renly turned them over and began to run his thumbs along the thicker skin and the slightly folded way it seemed to stand. He recognized calluses like these. He’d had them himself when he was younger, when he first started holding a practice sword in his hand. 

“Princess, what is this?” 

She shrugged, tilting her head close to her shoulder as she often did to listen. “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More backstory as to why Renly is with Jon, it was briefly mentioned in Jon’s last chapter, but here’s a more in depth one. 
> 
> The loss of Alysanne will always be a part of this story. The loss of a child, especially in this setting, has a large effect on everyone in one way or another and Renly, who lost an older sibling himself, sees it a little more keenly in the children besides Naerys.
> 
> A reason why Loras and Renly are not together in this fic. However, Renly will have a lover soon, he’s coming up when the Dornish are come. He’s a canon character so 😘. He’s also going to be important to bring the Baratheons more publicly to Jonsa’s side.
> 
> More mystery about what’s happening to Naerys’ hands. There are some clues about what’s going on in her chapter when she thinks about her wolf dreams and also Alysanne’s last few words in the first chapter.


	14. Jon III

The bells were attached to Sansa’s belt and the hem of Jon’s tunic. Although he couldn’t hear the bell at all besides a small thud, Naerys said she could hear them just fine. Sansa said she could hear a slight note, but it was too quiet for her to hear them properly and didn’t notice when people were talking. 

“I have been doing some more reading, Maester Uther said. “Apparently in Valyria there were a few cases of nobles going blind due to accidents and they trained dogs to help guide and protect them when they were unable to themselves. I’ve written Maester Caleotte to see if the library at Sunspear has any more information on what type of dog and how they might be trained. I haven’t heard back, but I think working with a dog as well as the bells might help the princess better integrate into court as she grows older.”

“Thank you, Maester,” Sansa said. 

“I am only doing my duty,” the older man said. “She’s a smart girl and she deserves all the opportunities afforded to her.” He smiled and stroked Naerys’ hair. 

Jon’s daughter gave a bright smile. “We get a puppy!?”

Jon chuckled and glanced at his wife. “Of course that’s the only thing she got from the conversation.”

Sansa giggled. 

“Alright,” Maester Uther said. “Please hold onto your bells and go to a random part of the room.” Jon and his wife did as instructed and went to opposite sides of the room, holding their bells. “Let go and walk for a moment.” He then turned to Naerys. “Go to your father.”

The girl smiled and walked carefully towards Jon, holding out her hands to make sure she wouldn’t run into anything, although they had cleared the room and pushed everything to the walls so she wouldn’t trip. Naerys wrapped her arms around Jon’s hips. She had her chin on his belly, her face towards him. “Found you!”

Jon gave a short laugh and bent down to kiss his daughter’s brow. “Aye, you did.”

—

“The Tyrells are under the impression that an engagement between the princess and Jaehaerys is imminent,” Renly told him as Jon was working on some documents. 

“You can’t be serious,” Jon said, setting his quill down. “How in the Seven Hells did they come to that conclusion?”

Renly shrugged. “I stopped trying to work out how the Tyrell mind works long ago. While pretty, they seem to think that’s all it will take to get them there. Yes, charm helps win crowds, but almost sending the realm into another civil war does not. I’m guessing this is Lady Olenna’s plan. This stinks of her involvement.”

Jon sighed. “Even if I were to entertain such a proposal, which I won’t, how could anyone think it was a good match. Yes, Jaehaerys is a good boy and acts as an older brother to my daughters at times, but he is their cousin, more closely related than Sansa and I are.”

“I suppose they fear that Naerys won’t keep the Targaryen name when she marries.”

Jon didn’t even want to think of his eldest daughter getting married. “I’m sure my father will lay down some president that she must retain the family name whenever she’s crowned.” Jon sighed. “It would be wiser to have her marry into a kingdom we already have a strained relationship with, although that kingdom will not be the Reach.”

Renly snorted. “It’s a bad match all around. However, roses do have thorns. I have no doubt they’ve been filling Jaehaerys’ head with certain things. I know he’s your nephew, but keep an eye on him, especially around Naerys. It would be wise to keep an eye on her as well. I would suggest trying to make ties to Dorne, the Stormlands, or even the Westerlands. While Lord Arryn is married to my niece Shireen, the relationship between my brother and your family is still strained, although Shireen has stayed mostly out of the conflict. I also didn’t include the Vale simply because Robin and Shireen only have a daughter at the moment. Not to say that Naerys might prefer that, but for now we can just assume she wishes to marry a man one day. Considering how much she enjoys knights rescuing her in maids and monsters I don’t think you have to worry about her being like me.”

Jon chuckled. “Nothing wrong with being you, although your taste in men can be shite.”

Renly gave a lopsided grin. “They are handsome though. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on the Tyrells.” 

“Thank you, Renly.”

—

Sansa sighed beneath him as he continued to thrust into her gently. He already brought her to release a few times already, with his hand and tongue, and both of them were getting tired. He thrust one more time before spilling into her and she hummed in content as he rested above her, laying his head on the pillow of her breasts. 

He relished in the way her nails scraped against his scalp and the scent of salt and lemons against her skin. 

“Have I exhausted you, my wife?” he grunted as she dug her heel into his backside, gridding their hips together a bit more. 

“You can sate me, my husband, but never tire me,” she replied. 

Jon smiled. “Renly talked to me of betrothment yesterday.”

“You are a married man, Jon,” his wife laughed and he could feel the tremble of her body against his own at the sound. 

He chuckled. “Aye. But he was talking of Naerys.”

He did not have to look up to know she frowned. “She’s too young.”

“I said the same, but the Tyrells seem to wish for a crown all the same.”

“They are more weeds than roses at times.”

Jon sighed. “I know Aegon and Margaery has always been close and I think they do genuinely love one another, but I sometimes feel it is more of a happy accident than anything. Margaery would have always aimed for Aegon, I think her family would have always pushed for it.”

Sansa hummed. “Did Renly offer any suggestions for our daughter?”

“He did. I think having a Dornish husband would do our daughter a better service. The Dornishmen are more open to women in power and it would strengthen our relationship to them where my father nearly ruined it with his abandonment of Princess Elia.”

“Arianne suggested her son, Daemon to me in a letter a few days ago,” Sansa said. “I did not think much of it because they are both so young, but perhaps it would be wise to entertain such things to put the Tyrells off.”

“Perhaps.”

“I had thought of Arthur Martell since he is also a Lannister by blood, but I feel that your father would disagree with it immensely.”

Jon sighed. “True. And, sadly, I feel the lords would be against it due to his deformity. Although it doesn’t impede him in any way, the lords are already nervous about Naerys’ blindness. He’s a sweet lad from what Rhaenys tells me. Perhaps he could become a part of Naerys’ council.” 

“Perhaps,” Sansa replied. 

Jon rolled off his wife. “I am sure Arya would be horrified by our pillow talk.”

Sansa snorted, snuggling to his side. “Arya enjoys saying crude jokes in public at Viserys’ expense. I’m sure she would be mortified about how boring our talks can be. I find them perfect though.”

“You do?”

“Are we not speaking? Besides, I am half asleep already.”

Jon chuckled. “My greatest accomplishment, knocking my wife out with sex and boring conversation.”

Sansa giggled. 

—

Jon received an urgent letter from Ser Waymar a few days later. 

_Prince Jon,_

_I write you urgently to inform you that there is unrest within the Eyrie. Although the reports are yet to be confirmed, it is believed that Lord Arryn has been poisoned. While he is alright, Lady Shireen believes the culprit is still at large and may try again. I have plans to travel to the Eyrie soon, which means I shall miss the princess’ nameday. However, I believe you understand my reason for it. I ask that I be given authority to act in your place as you remain in King’s Landing. The Vale is connected to most of the Seven Kingdoms, if it falls, I fear for the realms stability._

_Write as soon as you are able._

_Your humble servant,_

_Ser Waymar of House Martell_

Jon showed the letter to his wife and Sansa urged him to write a document that would bear his seal that would give Waymar the ability to act as he must in Jon’s place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celia will be getting a puppy, no it will not be Lady.
> 
> Renly and Jon talking. The Tyrell plans have come to light.
> 
> Some sweet sex and boring pillow talk. They’re right, Arya would be offended that it isn’t sexy.
> 
> Letter from Waymar!


	15. Naerys II

When she could still see, Naerys never dreamed of snow or wolves, that had always been Alysanne. Yet, after she lost her sight, she dreamed of snow and wolves almost nightly. She dreamed of men dressed in old fur and the occasional monster with blue eyes. It was strange that she was getting Alysanne’s old dreams. It was strange that she was so certain that her sister was south. She didn’t know why, but she knew her sister was south. 

Naerys awoke, standing. She was on a fur carver and she recognized it as the wool carpet from Aunt Margaery under her feet and her hands wrapped around something wooden. She felt around it and realized it was the wooden sword her father had gotten Alysanne the previous year. 

Why was she holding it?

“Rysy.” 

Naerys tilted her head at the sound of her younger sister, Celia’s, voice. She had been Rysy and Alysanne had been Lysy. 

“Need help to go potty?” Celia yawned. 

“No,” Naerys said. “Could you help me back to bed?”

“Kay.”

Naerys heard the slight slap of her sister’s feet on the stone floor of the nursery and then felt her sister’s hand slip into her own. Celia led Naerys back to her bed. 

“Can Cece stay with Rysy?”

“Of course.” Naerys missed sharing a bed with Alysanne. Her sister always ran hot and it was nice being warm. Naerys loved feeling warm. 

The two girls climbed into bed together and cuddled up and fell back asleep. 

Naerys didn’t dream of snow and wolves that time. 

—

Naerys stopped and her father stopped with her. She pressed her face into his hip. “Too many flowers,” she said. “Too many.”

The smells were all swirling together until it just bled into one scent that didn’t smell good. She pressed her nose against his trousers and sighed when she could only smell her father. He was a little stinky, but it was better than all the flowers at once. 

“Do you want to go inside, sweetling?” her father asked gently. She loved the roughness of her father’s voice, the slight scratch of it against her ears and the deep tone of rolling waves as well. Naerys nodded and held her arms up, reaching for him. She heard her father chuckle as his hands went to her rib cage and picked her up, setting her on his hip. “Alright, let’s go inside.”

“Father?”

“Hm?”

“What’s  _ betroothment _ ?”

Her father coughed. “ _ Betrothment _ is between two people who hope to get married.”

“Will I get a  _ betrothment _ ?” she asked, copying the way her father said the word. 

“When you’re older,” her father replied. “Right now the only man you need to care about is me.”

Naerys smiled and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck and kissed his cheek. He rubbed his beard against her skin and she squealed in delight. 

“I’ll get married someday?” 

“When you’re older.”

“Can I pick who I marry?”

“Depends on who you pick.”

“Can I marry Uncle Renly? He tells the best stories!”

Her father began to cough. “I don’t think that will work, but I’m sure your Uncle Renly would be flattered.”

Naerys smiled and snuggled further into her father’s arms. 

—

Naerys whimpered and began to scratch at the boy’s leg. She was so cold. She didn’t like being cold. 

And then there was the blue eyed monster. Naerys hadn’t seen them, but she felt as though she had. She wanted Alysann, but Alysanne was south. Always south. 

“Are you cold, she-wolf?” the boy asked, picking her up. He wasn’t as warm as Alysanne had been, but he was warmer than the ice and snow. “Ghost,” the boy reprimanded the other wolf pup. “You need to look after her, she’s rather clumsy and you should know better than to run off.”

Naerys licked at the boy’s face and he laughed.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “It’s time for bed.”

“Aemon!” a woman called. “I told you your wolves couldn’t come inside the tent. 

“But their cold, Ma!” the boy shouted and that’s when Naerys awoke, once more holding Alysanne’s wooden sword. 

She carefully made her way back to bed and began to drift into a peaceful sleep. She dreamed of the sun and warm arms wrapped about her, without a bit of ice remaining in her veins. 

—

“Naerys,” her mother said sweetly. Her mother had a smooth voice, like river water. There was always a slight hum in her mother’s voice too. Although her mother was from the North like Aunt Arya and Naerys’ grandmother, her accent was different and sounded more like Great Uncle Edmure from what Naerys could remember him sounding like. Her mother still had one of the most beautiful voices though. 

“Yes, Mother?” She could hear the slight tingle of her mother’s bell as well as her father’s. Her sisters and Uncle Renly and Ser Podrick had gotten bells as well. She was slowly learning new ones for the rest of the family, but for now she had memorized her parents the best. 

“As you know, your seventh birthday will be soon,” her father said. While his voice was light, Naerys could feel a note of pain in it. It was because of Alysanne. Naerys felt it too. “Some of the Martells will be coming, including your Aunt Rhaenys and your cousin Elia.”

“Yay!” Naerys loved her cousin Elia. Her cousin always visited and had the best stories of the Martells. 

“But something else is coming too,” her mother said. 

Naerys perked up. “A puppy?”

Her father gave a rumbling chuckle. “That’s right, although it’s a little older than a puppy. The maester at Sunspear has had it trained to help you walk around by yourself, when you wish to.”

“But for the first year, Ser Podrick or Uncle Renly or your father or I will be with you at all times,” her mother said. “Alright.”

Naerys reached for her parents, knowing based on their bells where they were. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Her father chuckled and her mother laughed. Naerys simply grinned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My nickname actually sounds remarkably close to how I pronounce Naerys in my head and I have a cousin that called me Rysy when she was three.
> 
> Also, after Friday, I’m taking one week off from writing because my supervisor scheduled me for too many hours next week and I’m going to be utterly exhausted. I might change up the writing schedule for my fics since I’ve been under too much stress lately (I work at a grocery store). Thank you for understanding!


	16. Jaehaerys I

Jaehaerys was proud to receive his bell. All the adults had discussed it at length on who should receive a bell next and it was decided by the king that Jaehaerys would be the one to get the next. The Payne family had already gotten one as well as Ser Renly. But Jaehaerys got the next one since he played with Naerys and Alysanne often before they had gotten sick. 

It was fun, taking part in the game to help Naerys memorize the small sounds of the bells and which person they belonged to. Naerys had always been rather smart, so it didn’t take long for her to memorize the bells. The only reason everyone else didn’t have one already was because Maester Uther didn’t want to overload her senses too quickly. 

“Find Jaehaerys, Princess,” the maester called.

Everyone began to move again slowly and Naerys moved around them, occasionally reaching out to make sure she wouldn’t bump into anyone. Eventually, she grabbed his sleeve and grinned so broadly that Jaehaerys ginned back. Even though her eyes were downcast, he could see that her smile was meant for him. 

“Found you!” she shouted happily. 

Jaehaerys took her hand and bent his knee. “At your service, Princess,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

“Be my dragon!” Naerys squealed excitedly. 

Jaehaerys could hear his Uncle Viserys chuckle. The young boy turned so his back was facing his cousin and put her hands on his shoulders. He bent down and Naerys wrapped her arms around his neck and he hooked his arms under her legs. 

“Roar!” Jaehaerys shouted as they began their game of dance. 

“I’m Aerea Targaryen!” Naerys cheered and the grownups all began to laugh. The other children began to rush in to play and climbed on the backs of the older children, shouting out other Targaryen dragonrider names. 

“Well,” Jaehaerys heard the maester say. “I suppose this is a good place to stop.”

He might have said more, but Jaehaerys got too lost in the game to care. 

—

“Did you have fun today, my little dragon?” his father asked as he tucked Jaehaerys into bed. 

“Yeah,” he yawned. “Maester Uther is busy helping Naerys, so I don’t have as many lessons.”

His father chuckled. “I suppose that does make it a fun day. Did you have fun with Naerys as well?”

“Yeah, but she’s sad sometimes.”

“Sad?”

“Yeah, she misses Alys. I miss her too.”

Alysanne was always more adventurous than Naerys was, but the youngest of the twins was the one who always helped Naerys come out of her shell and get more playful. 

“We all miss her too, sweetling,” his father said, smoothing the hair from his face. “I have a mission for you, little dragon. Do you think you could help me?”

Jaehaerys nodded. 

“Naerys is going to have some troubles going forward because she can’t see,” his father said. “I want you to look after her. Do you think you could do that?”

“Yep!”

Of course he would look after Naerys. He had been since they were both smaller. His parents and grandfather always told him so. Naerys was his to look after and he needed to protect her as a knight did his princess and as a king did his queen. 

His father held out his pinky. “Promise?”

Jaehaerys hooked his pinky with his father’s. “Promise.”

—

“I brought Jaehaerys, your grace,” Uncle Loras said, bringing him into his grandfather’s solar. 

“Thank you, Ser Loras, you may leave now.” The king stood and smiled at Jaehaerys, who ran into his grandfather’s arms with a laugh. “How’s my little dragon today?”

“Good.”

His grandfather grinned. “Good.” He sat down with Jaehaerys in his lap. “Do you know why I called you here, Jaehaerys?”

The boy shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I’m here to tell you a secret.”

Jaehaerys’ eyes widened. “Another secret?”

His grandfather told him a lot of secrets, like how he was going to marry Naerys one day. That was Jaehaerys’ favorite secret. He would get to stay with Naerys forever and he could always protect her. 

“One day, my little dragon, you will be king, but before then, you need to have lessons on what is to come. First, let’s begin with who you are, my little dragon. Do you remember what you are?”

“Aegon the Conqueror!” Jaehaerys said with a grin, his chest puffing out with pride. 

“Correct. And who is Naerys.”

Jaehaerys blushed. “My Rhaenys.”

His grandfather stroked his hair. “That’s my smart little dragon.”

—

Jaehaerys held Naerys gently in his arms as they stepped with the music. She had always been good at dancing, anything music related really, but now she was a little stiff and overthinking her steps. 

“Wrong,” the septa in charge of teaching Naerys the steps to the dance said, her voice ringing out across the room. 

Jaehaerys glared at the woman as he saw Naerys’ expression sink. He then turned to look down at his cousin and bent his head so the septa might not hear him. “Don’t pay attention to her,” he said gently, pressing a small kiss to her cheek. He could taste the slightest hint of salt on his lips from a single tear and he pulled back to see her trembling lip. “Just follow my lead and I won’t let you fall. Do you trust me?”

She nodded. 

“Good.”

The music started again and Jaehaerys began to lead the dance again, moving carefully so Naerys might fall into step with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we’re getting a better look into Jaehaerys. He’s not going to be as twisted as he was in the original fic, but he’ll be twisted by a lot of what the adults, mainly his grandfather and (to a degree) his great grandmother.
> 
> He does genuinely care for Naerys and that care will become perverted the longer Rhaegar fills his head with the prophecy and all that. 
> 
> I’m super sorry this is the last chapter before my week break, I worked 10 hours yesterday and am utterly exhausted. I’m bruised all over.


	17. Bran I

Minisa and Jojen had managed to fall asleep, somehow, in the carriage. While Jojen was more understandable, the boy was two, Bran was rather surprised Minisa had been rocked to sleep. The girl took after her mother and spent way too much time with her Uncle Rickon. The fact that she was asleep now meant she had tired herself out as opposed to merely falling asleep out of boredom. 

“Have the dreams been getting worse?” his wife asked. Meera has Jojen in her lap and she looked at Bran with concern. 

Although his betrothal to Meera had been vaguely political, the two had always been friends and he knew he could always trust her, especially with his dreams. However, after he lost his arm, Meera hadn’t left him and stayed by his side throughout it all, even when Bran’s father offered to end the betrothal. 

“It’s never good to see dragons and wolves in dreams. And of course I’m concerned when it comes to my niece.”

“Are you certain it’s Naerys?”

Bran sighed and wished his only hand wasn’t occupied on his daughter’s back. If he moved it, she’d probably wake up, but he desperately wanted to run his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. While she takes a place in my dreams, it’s as though her future is more unclear than anyone else’s.”

“What does that mean?”

“It will be more defined by the choices of others than choices of her own,” Bran replied. “It’s a dangerous thing, to be too reliant on others. It’s not a bad thing to be supported, but it’s another to have all your decisions made for you.”

His wife frowned sympathetically. “Is that why we're climbing down south?”

“She’s started to have wolf dreams,” Bran replied. “I can sense it, but those dreams are not and were never supposed to be hers. I don’t know why she’s having Alysanne’s dreams, but it worries me that the gods are setting her up for a fate she should never have had.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Meera said gently. “We’ll figure this out. You said we still have time!”

Bran nodded. “Judging by how old the children looked when I saw them, a little over a decade until things in the North begin to truly move.”

Meera grimaced. “I wish it wasn’t so.”

“As do I. But I am a Stark and winter is coming. At least we know it’s time to prepare.”

—

It was strange, seeing his eldest sister as she was now. It had been almost eight years or so since he had last seen her properly outside of his dreams. 

She took after their mother, but there were echoes of their father’s features in her smile and the shape of her eyes. It was easy to see how she had charmed so many people initially with her appearance. But he knew her heart and mind impressed many people afterwards. 

Next to her was their cousin and her husband, Jon. It was rather surprising how like Bran’s father he looked. A Stark man through and through with very little Targaryen in his blood. He was a good man based on the few letters he sent North and a good father based on what Sansa has written. Bran was intrigued to see what his cousin was going to be like. 

Celia and Lydia were being held by their father and mother respectively. Both girls looked strong and healthy. He didn’t look too closely into futures that he didn’t need to, but he could see that both girls had a bright one ahead of them. 

Arya and Viserys had not changed greatly since he had last seen them about two years ago. Although, Arya was rather round with child and Bran estimated she would give birth in a few months or so. He smiled, at least he could be there for that as well. 

Brandon and Jenny were both held by their father and Bran smiled. He was certain Minisa would find herself in heaps of trouble with them. 

Then there was Princess Elia, as graceful and beautiful as Bran’s mother described. A true mother to Westeros. The king was lucky to have her good heart. Bran had no doubt Westeros would have fallen into ruin has the Dornish princess not stayed in King’s Lansing. 

Then there was Bran’s aunt. His father spoken of her rarely and his mother had little good to say of the queen and, therefore said even less. When Bran looked to her, he saw a deep rooted weariness that he doubted the king noticed. 

King Rhaegar had aged since his days as the Silver Prince, but there was something about him that put Bran on edge. He hid a grimace. The Targaryens were a confusing family. He knew full well that the Bloodraven kept the dragons mostly hidden from Bran’s sight, only able to peek at the children with Stark blood. Whether it was because his old mentor did not think it necessary or because the old Raven was hiding something, Bran didn’t know. Either way, he did not trust the king, not entirely anyway. 

Then there was Prince Aegon and his wife, Lady Margaery. It was customary for a Stark to be rather disgruntled with Prince Aegon for the wrong he did to Bran’s sister, but, in the end, Bran found he could not hate the older man. It was obvious that he loved his wife and it was obvious that Lady Margaery loved her husband. Perhaps this was how it was always meant to be. 

There was Princess Daenerys and Bran glanced over her only briefly, sensing anger, deep rooted anger within her yet, he felt she was not dangerous. Even so, he felt uneasy. It was like in his days training at the Weirwood tree. The Bloodraven was definitely blocking his sight. 

Finally, there was Naerys and Jaehaerys. 

_Everything that happens will be something that you’ve seen before_

Bran felt uneasy. He could sense that his niece had some great part in the future, but Alysanne’s death had twisted and tangled the surviving twin’s fate dangerously. Wolf or dragon, which would she be. From Jaehaerys, he could sense very little. It was as though all the options in the world were open to him and he had yet to make any distinct choices. All Bran knew was that his fate was circled around Naerys’, like a predator to its prey. 

All of these observations happened in a matter of minutes as he helped his wife and their children from the carriage. He grew at ease when Sansa wrapped her arms around him, welcoming him to King’s Landing. 

—

“So what of the North?” Sansa asked. 

Bran and his family had settled in their rooms and Meera had taken the children out to the gardens with Jon and Viserys, allowing the Stark siblings a moment of privacy. 

“As it always was,” Bran said. “Cold. I cannot understand how you tolerate this heat.”

“We’re married time dragons,” Arya said with a glint in her eye. “We acclimated.”

Bran rolled his eyes. “I truly do not wish to know beyond that.”

“How are Robb and Rickon?” Sansa asked. 

“Robb and Talisa are well, they were worried about Eddie for a bit, but he was much better when I left, even so, Robb didn’t want to risk leaving.”

“And Rickon?”

“His wife is pregnant, due in four months or so.”

Sansa’s smile brightened. “How truly exciting! Our baby brother has truly grown up. Now, his wife is the wildling girl, correct?”

Bran nodded. “They prefer free folk, but yes.”

Sansa nodded. “Is she good to him?”

“Made more for south of the Wall than North of it. They’re still in the mooning phase of their relationship. I tend to stay away. It’s rather nauseating how romantic Rickon can be when he wants to.”

His sisters laughed. 

“What of Theon?” Arya asked. “Did you stop to visit him on your way here?”

Theon Greyjoy, or Greywolf as he had begun to be called, had been fostered under their father since the end of Balon Greyjoy’s failed Rebellion. He’d been a bit of an annoyance in their youth, but, overall, he was a good elder brother of sorts to the Stark children. He’d been given Moat Cailin by Bran’s father to live with his wife Lyra Mormont. His older sister Asha had taken up as heir of House Greyjoy, but overall, Theon had little to do with his Ironborn family, preferring his own family and the rebuilding of his keep. 

“You would hardly guess Moat Cailin was a ruin a decade ago,” Bran said. “He sends you both his regards and plans on arriving a little before Naerys’ birthday. It takes a while to ready his four children to journey to King’s Landing.”

“Eddard is thirteen now, isn’t he?” Arya asked. “Gods, he’s practically a little man now.”

“Aye,” Bran said. “Exact opposite of his father. Can barely talk to girls apparently without getting nervous.”

“That might be more because of his age than anything,” Sansa said. 

Bran laughed. “Perhaps. Now tell me how the south had been, Sansa, and how your travels have been, Arya.”

—

Bran dreamed of fire. Of fire so consuming that the smoke was choking out whatever life was inside. 

A scream echoed through the fiery halls and, although he did not know her for long, Bran would recognize his niece’s screams anywhere. 

“Naerys!” he shouted for her. “Naerys!”

He rushed about trying to find her. Bran looked down at his hands and realized he had two. Why was he being shown this?

Something screeched, a maddening sound of anger and betrayal and then the fire was gone, a winter wind silencing everything. Bran turned around and saw him. The thing that had haunted his nightmares since he was a boy. 

The Night King. 

A man of ice with a crown of it upon his head. 

_Fire cannot kill a dragon, but ice can_ , the voice of the Bloodraven whispered in Bran’s head. _Ice cannot kill a wolf, but fire has._

Bran shot up from his bed panting. 

Meera sat up as well, but more slowly. “Bran? You alright?”

Bran ran his only hand through his hair. “A vision,” he said in answer. 

Meera leaned into him and pressed a kiss to his shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Keep an eye on Naerys for now.” He shook his head. His sisters didn’t know about his abilities yet. “She has a part to play in all this. I just don’t know what it is yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bran enters the scene, as does the Bloodraven! Ooo~
> 
> This fic will now update every Monday!


	18. Sansa III

Sansa smoothed out Celia’s dress as her middle daughter held onto Jon’s pant leg. She straightened herself and shifted Lydia slightly on her hip. When they had welcomed Bran and his family, Jon had been the one holding Lydia, but now Rhaenys and a few of the Martells were visiting, so Sansa held their youngest daughter. 

She glanced at Jon who was looking at Naerys and Jaehaerys. The two cousins were standing between their two families. Sansa’s eldest had her arm linked with Jaehaerys’s arm and the young boy had his chest puffed out in a bit of bride, reminding Sansa a little of how Robb would look when asked to take care of Arya. 

“I don’t like it,” Jon muttered under his breath to her. “The Tyrells wish to push for such a match, although Aegon has made no mention of it.”

“They are children right now, Jon,” Sansa reminded her husband, putting her hand in his arm. “Naerys needs someone within the family that she can trust that is close by. Rhaenys and Elia live in Dorne and Arya and her family visit infrequently. It’s good to build trust within our families, but we just need to make sure that certain lines are drawn.” She squeezed his arm slightly. “Besides, I feel more at ease now that Naerys seems to want to walk around more. She’s been more outgoing since Jaehaerys received his bell. Let her be a child for a little longer. She won’t even be seven until a few more days.”

Jon took her hand in his and kissed it before turning his attention to the Martell party. He stroked Celia’s hair. “Sweetling, can you hold Naerys’ hand?”

Although Celia took after Sansa in appearance, the scowl she gave at having to let go of her father was all Jon. However, the girl took her sister’s offered hand so Jon might step down with his brother and father to greet Rhaenys. 

The eldest of the Targaryen children threw her arms around her younger brothers and held them tightly. Sansa could see her expression grow tender as she pulled away from them and began to speak to them before turning to her father, her expression cold and schooled, and curtsied her greeting with the king offering a curt nod. 

Sansa could not imagine being so distant with her father, but Sansa knew there was history behind each relationship between members of the Targaryen family, with the king and Rhaenys having, perhaps, the most strained. 

It was then for them all to be introduced more properly to the rest of the Martell party. Besides Rhaenys and her daughter, Elia, there was Princess Arianne and her two sons, Olyvar and Daemon, along with Prince Joffrey and his wife, Doreah and their children, Arthur, Joanna, and Amyra. 

When the introductions were made, Arianne made it rather obvious that she wished for her youngest to be introduced to Naerys. The young Martell prince bowed and Naerys curtsied about the same time as Jaehaerys whispered into her ear. 

“Princess,” the boy said, offering his hand. Naerys gave her own at Jaehaerys’ prompting and Daemon pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. 

Sansa watched as her daughter’s cheeks grew pink and eventually withdrew her hand to wrap both arms around her cousin’s. Naerys had never been much around boys close to her age outside of family members or Jeyne’s son, Cedric. If only further proved Sansa’s point that her daughter was too young to have a betrothment yet. She should be allowed to be a child a little longer.

Unlike Sansa and her original betrothment, they were not coming off of a rebellion. There had been relative peace and there was no need to solidify alliances quite yet. 

Sansa then turned to Rhaenys and received a welcomed hug from her good sister. 

—

Sansa has done the proper and polite thing and had invited Daenerys and Margaery to her solar for tea. However, the two women had refused, Margaery more polite than the Targaryen princess, but Sansa had not wished her to come anyway. Sansa held little ill will towards the Tyrell woman’s alliance with Daenerys. The two had been friends for quite a long time and Daenerys had been one of the few members of the Targaryen family to welcome Margaery full heartedly into the family when she and Aegon eloped. 

Even so, it did not mean that Sansa did not feel some anger at Margaery for siding with the woman who had kept Jon from his family when they needed him the most. 

Regardless, Sansa turned her attention back to her guests, who included Arya, Meeta, Rhaenys, Arianne, and Doreah. 

“How have you liked King’s Landing thus far, Doreah?” Sansa asked. “I believe it’s your first time?”

The Dornish woman smiled. “It’s quite the pretty city, although I will always prefer Sunspear.,” she said. “I do enjoy the history of it though, considering how new it is in comparison to the other great keeps. You can definitely tell that it was not created by those who were from this land originally.”

“Quite so,” Arianne said. “I know many of the history books base their sketches of Old Valyria on King’s Landing.”

“Considering none can go near Valyria due to the climate I have no doubt King’s Landing is viewed as the next best thing,” Arya said. “I have tried to convince Viserys to let us sail close to it, but he has staunchly refused.”

Rhaenys chuckled. “My uncle is simply overly concerned with your wellbeing, Arya. I’m certain if anyone could see Old Valyria, it would be you.”

Arya smirked and Sansa rolled her eyes. 

“I hope you all found your journey here pleasant. I know it can be quite difficult at times, especially with a group of young children.”

“I believe we managed rather well considering,” Arianne said. 

“The children all love Joffrey,” Doreah said with a smile. “They tend to listen to him when reprimanded.”

Sansa smiled. 

“I may need him to spend time with Minisa, then,” Meera said. “She can be a handful at times.”

Doreah laughed. “I shall see what my husband can do then.”

“Speaking of children,” Arianne said. “Have you thought of my offer, Sansa?”

Sana’a frowned. She knew what Arianne was speaking of, but she still felt that Naerys was too young. “Perhaps we might speak of it at a later date. Naerys and Daemon are still children.”

“Seven hells,” Arya muttered. 

Although the Dornish women did not seem too bothered by the turn in conversation and, neither did Sansa, truly, she was surprised at Meera’s shift in expression, the Reed woman’s eyes narrowing ever so slightly. 

“They won’t be children forever,” Arianne countered. 

Sansa sighed. “I know. I suppose I am more sensitive to the subject since Naerys’ nameday is in a few days, but I still feel as though they are too young for anything official yet.”

Arianne nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

Rhaenys leaned forward. “Perhaps something unofficial then? It could be an agreement that will tie the hands of the Tyrells, should they wish to push for a certain betrothment.”

Sansa frowned. She knew from what Renly told Jon that such a betrothal was being thought of by House Tyrell and she personally hated that such things now seemed to be done from the shadows. “I’ll speak to my husband of it, but I shall not promise anything. Such an agreement would need to be between him and you, Arianne, since you are both the heads of our respective families.”

Arianne nodded. “We shall discuss it the day after Naerys turns seven then. Just be careful,” she said. “I hear the Queen of Thorns herself is coming.”

Sansa took a fortifying breath before nodding. 

The conversation soon shifted again and Sansa was glad to change the subject from her eldest daughter’s future. 

—

Celia had been absolutely determined to sleep with her older sister that night. Naerys didn’t seem to mind at all, preferring to go along with whatever her younger sisters wanted. However, Sansa could only guess that she also missed Alysanne sleeping beside her. 

“Arthur played with me today,” Celia said. “He’s pretty like a girl and played dolls with me.”

Sansa smiled and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s brow. “I’m glad you had fun with Arthur,” she said. “He and the Martells will be here for a month or so.” Celia wiggled in excitement. Sansa chuckled. “It’s time for bed, sweetling.”

“But I’m not tired,” Celia whined. 

Sansa shook her head. It was obvious that her middle daughter was barely keeping her eyes open.

“ _ Where the north wind meets the sea _

_ There's a river full of memory _

_ Sleep, my darling, safe and sound _

_ For in this river all is found. _ ”

Sansa stroked Celia’s face, from her brow to the top of her nose with a finger, her daughter’s eyes growing more droopy at every note. 

“ _ In her waters, deep and true _

_ Lay the answers and a path for you _

_ Dive down deep into her sound _

_ But not too far or you'll be drowned. _ ”

Celia’s eyes fluttered closed and her breathing grew deep and peaceful. 

“Mother?” 

Sansa looked to Naerys and hummed softly, stroking her daughter’s hair. “Yes, my sweetling?”

“Is there really a place like that?”

“Supposedly,” Sansa said. “My father used to sing it to me. He said it was once about the hot springs of Winterfell, but who knows.”

“Could I see Alys if I went there?”

Sansa’s lip trembled, but she kept her hand steady. “Alys will always be with you, sweetling.”

“I miss her.”

“I do too.”

“Mother?”

“Yes, my sweet girl?”

“Can you stay until I fall asleep? I have funny dreams when I’m alone.”

“Funny dreams?”

“I see ice and wolves in my dreams.”

Sansa frowned. Alysanne has said something similar when she was still… “your sister had similar dreams.”

Naerys nodded. 

“Perhaps the gods are letting you have them now too so she can still be with you.”

“Maybe.”

“Can you stay?”

“Of course.” Sansa climbed on top of the bed with her daughters and curled around them until sleep finally claimed Naerys.

—

Sansa awoke from a vision of Jon screaming and a broken body in his arms as a young man stood before her husband with a flaming sword. 

“Naerys,” Sansa breathed. 

“Hm?” Jon grumbled, sitting up slowly to look at her. “Sansa, what is it?”

“I need to check on Naerys,” she answered, rushing out of their bed and pulling on a robe. 

Concerned, her husband followed suit, pulling on his own robe and followed her down the hall to peek into the nursery. Sansa breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Naerys and Celia still curled around each other in Naerys’ bed. 

“Sansa,” her husband’s gentle voice came into her ear as he put a hand to the small of her back. “Are you alright?”

“Just a nightmare,” she whispered. “I…” A girl with hair like her own, dead in Jon’s arms. She shook her head and turned to wrap her arms around her husband’s waist. “I just needed to look at them.”

Jon held her tenderly in his arms and stroked her hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon pouting just a tad because he wants to be the only man in Naerys’ life. He feels no worry at all that Naerys said she wanted to marry Renly, but this is a completely other matter. Lol
> 
> Talk of betrothment. All those great women together ❤️ (Elia is laying down for a bit of a rest).
> 
> More about Naerys’ dreams and some talk of Winterfell that will be important much later in the story.
> 
> Sansa gets a dream!
> 
> And Olenna Tyrell will appear next chapter!


	19. Margaery I

Margaery awoke to her husband’s arms wrapped around her. Aegon always ran warm and she had always felt secure in his arms, even when they were children and he would comfort her after she had hurt herself or her grandmother had been too harsh on her. She sighed, turning slowly, as not to wake him, and pressed her face into Aegon’s chest. 

When word of Aegon’s betrothment to Sansa had come, Margaery had been heartbroken. Since they were children, Aegon had always felt like he belonged to her and she to him. They were inseparable. When they were little, they had even pretended to marry in the Godswoood. Aegon was her person and some part of Margaery had believed that they were meant to be together, that they would be together forever. Yet, it appeared as though the king had other plans. 

Margaery was sent to Highgarden, under her grandmother’s judging gaze, and Aegon remained in King’s Landing where he was set to woo Lady Sansa Stark. 

Then, by the blessing of some god or another, Aegon came to visit Margaery, a way to settle their feelings once and for all and do his duty. It was a duty he did not want, but it was a duty nonetheless. As they spent time walking within the rose garden, Margaery knew that she would never truly love another man as she loved Aegon. She was ready to let him go, though. Ready to let him fulfil his duty to the kingdom and mend the rift between the North and the south. 

But then, he kissed her and there had been no going back. 

Her grandmother and older brothers had reasoned with them, saying King Rhaegar would understand. He had risked rebellion for his love for Queen Lyanna and he was already married at the time, surely he, of all people, would understand. 

So, they had married in the sept at Highgarden and spent their first week of marriage blissfully amongst the roses, not once thinking about the thorns. 

But then, word had reached the capital and they were called to stand before the king. Aegon had done his best sto defend their marriage and love and told his father that it was consummated and had been made legal, a certificate sent to the Citadel already. 

To Margaery and everyone’s shock, King Rhaegar allowed the marriage, but at a price that no one expected. He stripped Aegon of his place in the line of succession, taking him out completely. Margaery would never be queen and her children would have no place near the throne except to see it and perhaps advise it. 

Although it had been a shock and Aegon had been angry at his father’s hypocrisy, at least they were together, at least they had each other. 

Not everyone was kind to them, however. 

The Starks looked at her with suspicion, Aegon’s brother looked at them both with scorn, Aegon’s sister and mother looked at them with disappointment. Viserys was distant, but that was how he always was.

Daenerys was the only one who was kind to them. She remained Margaery’s friend and welcomed her into her small circle and continued to interact with her, even when most chose to ignore her and give hollow praise to Lady Sansa. 

Daenerys was Margaery’s only true friend in the capital. 

Margaery sighed and closed her eyes, content to sleep in her husband’s embrace for a moment longer. 

—

Greeting the party from Highgarden was not as grand as the ones for the Martells and the Starks. In part, it was because the Tyrells visited the capital often, but it was also because they were still not favored by the king due to their actions all those years ago. 

“Grandmother, Father,” Margaery said, dipping into a slight curtsy. Aegon and Jaehaerys followed suit. 

Margaery desperately sought her grandmother’s approval, it was why she allowed for her family to talk about a betrothal between Jaehaerys and Naerys. While she thought her son had the makings of a great king and was the only grandson of the current one, it was not the only reason as to why she thought an engagement between her son and niece would be a good idea. 

Naerys would need someone she could trust whenever she was old enough to step up into the role of her father’s heir. She would, no doubt, meet some roadblocks due to her blindness and she needed someone who could help guide her. Jaehaerys was a natural choice, but it was obvious to everyone that Margaery’s son cares for his cousin, always ready to offer her an arm and a calm word or two. 

Just the other day when the Martell party had arrived was a perfect example. 

“I suppose this is all the greeting we get?” Margaery’s grandmother asked, glancing at the small reception. 

“The Martells are still resting, Grandmother,” Margaery said gently. “The Starks and the others are preparing for the feast tomorrow.”

“Hm.” The Queen of Thorns did not look impressed. Margaery could feel the disappointment in her grandmother’s gaze as the old woman glanced at her and Aegon. Her expression softened when she looked at Jaehaerys, her favoritism shifting onto the next generation, where her own grandchildren had failed. “You have grown since I last saw you, little dragon.” 

Jaehaerys puffed out his chest in pride. “Father got me a wooden sword last month,” the boy said happily. “Uncle Loras says I’ll make a great knight one day.”

“I’m sure you will,” the woman said, stroking the boy’s silver hair. “After all, what is a princess without her greatest knight?”

Jaehaerys beamed up at her.

Margaery’s grandmother turned a hardened look to Aegon. “Lead me to my rooms, boy.” 

Aegon bowed as Margaery squeezed his hand. “Right away, my lady.” He turned to his son. “Why don’t you go and play with Naerys, little dragon,” he said. “Don’t want the other boys playing too roughly.” He turned to Margaery. “I believe you have tea with my aunt today.” Aegon kissed her hand tenderly. “I shall see you later.” 

Margaery nodded and watched as her family went their separate ways. 

—

Margaery sat in Daenerys’ solar as they took their tea. 

The Targaryen woman was still very much welcome in court, but it was obvious that she had lost favor within the royal family. Even Aegon had encouraged Margaery to keep her distance. However, Daenerys had been her friend in court when everyone else had initially shunned her. Even if she did not agree with what Daenerys did, she could not leave her friend alone. 

“Have you seen what the Stark woman has been making poor Naerys wear?” Daenerys asked. While there were now three Stark women in the capital, Margaery didn’t need to ask which her good aunt was referring to. “Grey and white. While Naerys has the Tully coloring, she is a dragon, a Targaryen, and his the second in line for the throne, she should wear the proper colors nearing her nameday.”

“Perhaps she shall wear black and red tomorrow?” Margaery suggested. While Naerys had been wearing more Stark, and even Tully colors recently, Aegon had told her the reason but a few days ago. Apparently the Targaryen dresses were stiff and made of a rougher fabric. While it hadn’t been much of an issue before, Naerys appeared to find it rather disagreeable, needing something that breathed a little more easily, which meant her Stark colored dresses that were made in a more Dornish fashion. 

Daenerys pursed her lips. “Perhaps.”

“Has your brother talked of a betrothal to you?” Margaery asked, changing the subject. “I heard that a Lord from Essos is coming to visit soon. I hear that he is well known for his looks and his kind heart.”

Daenerys scoffed. “A man from Essos would never be able to appease me. “Only a Targaryen can love a Targaryen.” 

Margaery’s lips formed a thin line, but she said nothing. It was quite obvious that her friend was in one of her darker moods. “As there are no Targaryen men available,” she said carefully. “You will have to make due.” 

Daenerys sighed. “If only I had been born earlier.” 

Margaery had no idea what that could possibly mean, so she ignored it. “Have you thought of what you will get Naerys for her nameday?”

“I have had a dress made and sent from Braavos. It’s quite pretty and I’ve heard rumors that Braavosi fashion was coming into style. What are you getting?”

“Oh, Naerys told me that she quite enjoyed the rug I had placed in the nursery and I have had another made in rabbit fur that is quite large. It will be for her room so she does not have to walk on the hard ground in her own room. Have you heard what the king is getting her? It’s rather hush hush, if I am to understand.” 

Daenerys shook her head. “I have no idea what my brother is getting. To my knowledge not even Varys has heard anything.”

“Hm,” Margaery hummed. “I wonder what it might be then.”

—

Margaery walked around her personal garden. Aegon had it set up for her three years into their marriage. It was a beautiful garden with flowers from all over the Seven Kingdoms and a few from Essos and the Free Cities. It was her sanctuary. Her little shelter from the weariness of court life. 

“It’s time to go to bed, my love,” Aegon said, coming up behind her and kissing her shoulder.

“I know,” she replied softly. “I just want to say goodnight to them.” Margaery went over to the three vibrant white rose bushes. “Goodnight, my darlings,” she said softly. 

Three. She had lost three children since Jaehaerys had been born. Three beautiful children. None of them far enough along to know who they might have become. Her precious little babies. She prayed often to the Mother that they were happy and safe wherever they were. 

Tears began to prick at her eyes and Aegon wrapped his arms around her, pressing a tender kiss to her temple before leading her back to their rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White roses mean purity, innocence, silence, secrecy, and heavenly.
> 
> Just a look into Aegon and Margaery’s relationship and Rhaegar’s hypocrisy.
> 
> Olenna does not really think of Margaery as her little rose anymore.
> 
> Why Margaery is still speaking to Dany and some insight on Dany as well.
> 
> Poor Margaery and Aegon.


	20. Lyanna I

~~_ Dear Ned, _ ~~

~~_ Bran, although named after our older brother, looks more like Benjen. _ ~~

~~_ Dear Ned, _ ~~

~~_ Bran and his family made it safely to the Red Keep. He looks so much like Benjen. Have you seen _ ~~

~~_ Dear Lord Stark, _ ~~

~~_ Your son and his family have arrived _ ~~

Lyanna set down her quill and sighed letting her head fall slowly to her desk and pressed her forehead to the finished wood. She was never sure how to write to Ned, the only older brother left to her. She never wrote Benjen either. She could never bring herself to write to the only brother who had known of her leaving, who had kept her secret and carried the burden of what came after even though he shouldn’t. 

She could never write to her family unless it was on some business that Rhaegar wished for her to do. 

Lyanna turned her head and watched as the ink dried, sighing. 

Ned would not answer her letters anyway. He didn’t acknowledge her anyway, not since the rebellion. Even though she pushed the feelings and the knowledge deep down into her stomach, she knew the reason why. 

Their father and Brandon, dead by the Mad King’s cruelty, and buried beneath Winterfell with the Kings of Winter. Dead because she had Benjen keep her secret. Dead because she didn’t want to marry Robert Baratheon. 

Robert, he had been handsome, raven haired and blue eyed, in their youth. Any girl would have been happy to wed him, save for her. A bastard already and a good father to her, based on Ned’s words. But those were the words of a best friend. 

Would he be able to love the children she gave him? He had taken a girl to his bed enough times to father a child. How many more would he take if they were married and she did not please him. 

She was no Southron beauty. She was of the North with a long face and winter in her veins. Robert’s eye would turn and where would that leave her or her children?

_ Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature. _

Robert had died for her though, died believing a lie. Died believing that she hadn’t gone with Rhaegar willingly. Perhaps if she had spoken the truth, her brother’s dearest friend would still be alive and there would be no distance between them. 

For the longest time, all she had was Rhaegar and their son and, at times, Daenerys too. 

She was a wolf without a pack, surrounded by dragons. A wolf who could only watch the Stark’s in longing. She knew, deep down, she had lost the right to be one of them long ago. 

—

“You are going easy on me, Jon,” Lyanna said with a laugh as her son dodged one of her swings and pushed her arm away from her center. 

Jon chuckled and leaned forward to kiss the crown of her head. “I would never, Mother.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Alright, I believe we are in need of refreshment.” 

The two went to one of the benches on the edge of the training ground and sat down to drink and rub a wet rag over their faces. 

“How are the preparations for the nameday feast going?” she asked. 

“Sansa has most of it in hand,” Jon said. “I can’t believe Naerys and Alysanne are going to be seven,” he said with a slight laugh. 

Lyanna’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest as she saw her son’s expression fall and his eyes began to water. 

“Naerys was practicing so hard at dancing so she doesn’t stumble. Alysanne didn’t have a care in the world and was going to just stand on my feet like she always did.” He took a shuddering breath and buried his face in his hands. “It’s like… Every morning I wake up and I forget. I forget she’s gone and I expect her to come running into the room and jump onto the bed with a shriek and sit on my chest and demand I get up. I keep waiting and then I remember she’s not here anymore.” 

Lyanna wrapped her arm around her son and pulled him to her. He was still curled in on himself, but his face was buried against her neck and she could feel the hot tears upon his neck. 

“My baby girl is never going to turn seven.”

She closed her eyes and let her own tears fall silently as she rocked her son gently. Lyanna needed to focus on him, she was not the one who needed comfort. She kissed the top of his head. She didn’t say it was okay because she knew it wasn’t. 

“We just have to make sure, then, that Naerys’ day is full of happiness then,” she said. Gods, this would be the first nameday without Alysanne for her too. The sweet little girl. “We always have to be strong for our children,” Lyanna said gently. “It’s what being a parent is.” She kissed his dark curls. “It’s okay, sweetling, mama’s right here.”

A whine escaped from her son’s lips and Lyanna held her son in her arms and rocked him just like she used to whenever he had a nightmare. 

—

Lyanna knocked on her niece’s door and waited, brushing off the nonexistent dust from her skirt in nervousness. 

“Come in!” Sansa called. 

Lyanna took a deep breath and opened the door to Sansa’s solar. She knew full well that she and her niece had gotten off on the wrong foot all those years ago and Lyanna could blame no one but herself. 

She had tried to connect with both her nieces when they arrived. While she had connected a bit with Arya, she had never managed much with Sansa. 

Her good daughter was everything a lady was supposed to be. She could dance and sing and sew and do everything that was expected of a lady of a noble house, everything that Lyanna wasn’t. Everything that Elia was. It was only logical that Sansa and Princess Elia bonded almost immediately. It was only logical that Arya would follow suit. Once more, Lyanna was on the outside looking in and she wanted someone to blame. Someone. 

But she could blame none but herself. 

Then, Aegon had left and married Margaery, abandoning his betrothment to Sansa. Was that how Robert felt when he learned of Lyanna’s leaving? No. No, it was much more anger from Robert since he was a man and he thought that she had been taken against her will. 

Aegon has left willingly and made it abundantly clear that any affection he had shown Sansa was nothing more than a way to please his father. 

Then, Sansa had become Lyanna’s niece and good daughter both and, later, became the mother to the only grandchildren that Lyanna would ever know. 

Sansa was sitting at her desk working on what seemed like plans, no doubt for the feast. The girl had the coloring of a Tully, but the shape of her eyes and her long face was all Stark. She was beautiful and a true Northern rose that had bloomed in the South with grace. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Lyanna said as her niece stood and gave her a curtsy. “I won’t take long, but I wanted to speak with you privately without anyone else to disturb us.”

Sansa nodded and motioned for the seat opposite her desk. “Please, sit.” Lyanna did as she was bid and her niece sat down as well. “What is it you wished to speak about?”

“First, I would like to apologize,” Lyanna said, bowing her head and fisting at her skirt slightly so as not to fidget. “I should have been more of a support to you when the girls had dragon fever and even more so in the aftermath.” She took a deep breath. “I was also the one to raise Daenerys and I should have noticed her obsession with Jon sooner and kept her in check. I have already spoken with Rhaegar and we are trying to find a match for her that will take her away from the Red Keep for months at a time.” She glanced at Sansa and found her blue eyes wide for a moment. “I would also… I know I have not been a good aunt to you and I have not been a doting grandmother to the girls when I should. I have no right to ask, but I would like to try.”

Sansa watched her for a moment and Lyanna recognized Ned in her eyes. The quiet watchfulness that seemed to see right through her. “I won’t keep you from the girls,” she said gently. “After the the nameday feast, how about we take the children on a picnic, just the girls, you, me, and Jon.”

Lyanna smiled gratefully. “That sounds perfect.”

—

She wasn’t sure what it was that awoke her, but something did. Lyanna shifted in her bed and glanced over to see if it might be that Rhaegar had awoken in the middle of the night and had gone out for some reason. Instead, she found her husband fast asleep beside her. 

However, something felt wrong, as though there was a shift in the air that wasn’t right. 

Lyanna slipped from her bed and made her way down the royal chambers to check on the children. Even though they were her grandchildren and Sansa no doubt had an eye on them, Lyanna felt that something was wrong and she merely needed to check on them before she would be able to fall asleep. 

She nodded at Ser Renly, who was often the one to look after the children when Ser Podrick was with his own family. “I just wish to check on the children,” she said.

He nodded back to her and stepped aside. Lyanna opened the door and slipped through to check on the children. A small torch lit up the main room of the nursery so the children wouldn’t hurt themselves should they need to get up in the middle of the night. However, the sight before her made her gasp. 

Naerys was in the middle of the room, her hands tight around the hilt of Alysanne’s practice sword, going through the motions of drills, lifting her arms over her head and bringing the sword down to a stop before her. 

Naerys’ head snapped towards Lyanna and, instead of milky blue eyes merely drifting a gaze in her direction, Lyanna met eyes of dark grey that seemed to stare directly into her. Then, Naerys’ eyes rolled back and she fell to the ground. Lyanna shouted and rushed forward to grab her granddaughter before the girl could be hurt. 

Ser Renly rushed in.

“Get Maester, Uther,” Lyanna demanded. “Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is Naerys’ birthday. I’m debating on if it should be from Naerys’ POV or from Dany’s.   
> Then we’re going to Waymar and the Vale.


	21. Naerys III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to post this earlier, but it’s my brother and sis-in-law’s first wedding anniversary! 🥳

Naerys awoke in her bed, the name of a boy she had never met on the top of her tongue, warm from the ice that she saw him in. However, the scent of honey and lemons itches at her nose and another person’s name tumbled from her lips. “Mother?”

A hand tightened around her own. “Naerys,” her mother’s voice sounded like when her fever had broken all those moons ago. Another hand brushed the hair from Naerys’ face. “Are you alright sweetling?”

She nodded, confused on why her mother would ask such a thing. Naerys sat up, her body feeling heavy, as though she had slept a little longer than she should have. 

“Perhaps we need to postpone the nameday feast,” her father suggested. 

“No,” Naerys whined. That means she would be six for another day. She wanted to be seven tomorrow. 

“Naerys,” her father’s voice came. There was a dip in the bed, the sound of his bell, and she felt his large hand on her back. “Your health is more important than your nameday. We’ll still give you your puppy tomorrow, but everything might have to be pushed back a day or so.”

Naerys pouted her lip. She felt fine. She didn’t understand why her parents were being fussy. She crossed her arms in disagreement, causing her father to chuckle slightly. 

“Rysy okay?” came Celia’s voice. She sounded a little far and Naerys guessed her sister was at the foot of her bed if the slightly muffled bell was any indication. 

“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” came Uncle Bran’s voice. Naerys tilted her head, not realizing he was there. Then again, her uncle’s family hadn’t been given bells yet. 

“I am rather certain there is cause to be worried,” her mother said incredulously. “Aunt Lyanna—”

“Is not versed so well in the ways of the North,” Uncle Bran finished whatever Naerys’ mother was about to say. 

“What do you mean?” her father asked. “Is this some sort of Northern affliction?”

“Yes and no. It’s more of a Stark thing.”

“A Stark thing?” her mother inquired. “What does that mean?”

“It happens occasionally within House Starks, however…” Even though she could not see him, Naerys felt as though his eyes were upon her. 

_Wolf!_ The memory of the giant crow’s voice echoed in her mind. _Dragon!_

“I’ll stay with her tonight,” Uncle Bran continued. “It should be fine after this and I think some boundaries simply need to be set.” He paused. “Tomorrow is her nameday and she should be fine by then. There’s no need to postpone anything. I’ll tend to Naerys tonight. She should be fine after this.”

“I’ll trust you Bran,” her mother said. “But only because Maester Uther found nothing wrong.”

“That’s all I ask, sweet sister,” Uncle Bran replied. “That’s all I ask.”

—

Nothing seemed to have happened the night before her nameday and Uncle Bran said that she would be okay for the celebration. 

She got her puppy from Aunt Rhaenys in the morning before the feast. The fur was so very soft and the puppy’s tongue was ticklish and he lavished kisses upon her cheek and hands. She named him Seasmoke, after the dragon, but also for the slight smell of salt on the puppy’s fur. 

He still needed a little more training so he would know his way around the keep, but Naerys would be allowed to play with him every day and he would be _her_ puppy and not her sisters. 

The nameday feast felt different and everything seemed to go a little faster. There was something off about it. Naerys didn’t quite realize what it was until she reached over and wound up grabbing her father’s hand instead of Alysanne’s. 

Oh.

Alys was gone. Her sister wouldn’t be by her side anymore. She forgot, sometimes, that Alys wasn’t there anymore. She just imagined that her sister was off training with Uncle Renly it Ser Podrick. But her sister was gone. 

Even though she sensed her sister in her dreams…

Alysanne was gone. 

“It’s time to dance now, Naerys,” her father said gently. “Would you like to open the dance with me?”

Naerys nodded, happy to think of something else. She and her father had practiced her dancing so she would look really pretty on her nameday, however, she still preferred dancing on her father’s feet. 

Her father took Naerys’ hand and led her out onto the dance floor as she heard the shuffle of feet and the whisper of fabric as the people began to make room for them. 

Naerys stepped on her father’s feet as he put one hand on her back and held her hand with the other. The music began to start and they began to dance. 

Her father led her about the room in the spins and the turns and Naerys giggled as she felt the breeze kiss her cheeks and the scent of her father flooded her nose. Burning wood and steel. Alys had smelled like that too sometimes. More the steel than the wood. All of the Targaryens smelled of burning wood, as though fire ran through their veins. Naerys wondered if it was she smelled like that too. She wanted to smell like Alys. 

Naerys laughed as her father lifted her in the air and spun themselves around. He set her back down on her feet, distracting her from her thoughts as she began to sink into the fuzzy feeling of content. 

—

The next person Naerys danced with was her grandfather. She stepped on his feet too. He asked how she was liking her nameday and she told him about Seasmoke and how her mother had made her a dress that felt like water. It was made of Dornish silk with Myrish lace. She didn’t know the colors, but her father said it had a Stark look with the lace having some red in it. Her mother had even done her hair like she was a big girl. Naerys’ grandfather chuckled at her chatter, but he said that she looked very beautiful and that even the first Rhaenys Targaryen would be jealous of her appearance. 

The next person she danced with was her Uncle Aegon. He held her for their dance, letting her sit on his arm as they danced to the fast Dornish tune. He even pretended to dip her which made Naerys laugh and laugh. Uncle Aegon always seemed to be a little sad, especially on namedays, so it was good to feel that he was in high spirits. 

Naerys then danced with Uncle Viserys, who danced a little more slowly. He wove stories of his and Aunt Arya’s journeys into Braavos and Essos. He told her of the plays and the people and the music. Naerys wished she could have seen it, but Uncle Viserys had always been very good at telling stories so it was as though she were truly seeing it. 

She then danced with Uncle Bran, who helped her a bit with the more Northern dances and their turns. It was a fun dance and she enjoyed the way her Stark uncle seemed to skirt about the music as though it were water. 

She then danced with Jaehaerys. 

“You look beautiful, Naerys,” her cousin said gently, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“And you’re surely handsome,” she replied. She did not need to see to know that he blushed. He always blushed when she or Alys would tell him he was pretty. 

“Are you liking the feast?”

“Mhm,” Naerys nodded as the two of them swayed to the music. “Mother said I could have _five_ lemon cakes today.”

The dance wasn’t as complex and it was nice to be able to do the steps a little more properly as she couldn’t stand on Jaehaerys’ feet. They had practiced tirelessly and her cousin had been very supportive as she relearned dances. 

“That’s not fair,” he grumbled. “My mother said I could only have _three_.”

“Maybe you can have five on _your_ nameday.”

He chuckled. “Maybe. Or I can steal some of yours.”

Celia gaped at him. “You will _not_.”

The two dissolved into giggles as the dance ended. 

“My princess,” he said, his voice dipping as he bowed. 

“My prince,” she said with a curtsy. 

“Naerys,” she heard Princess Arianne’s voice and she curtsied again towards the woman. “I hope you are having a good nameday,” she said gently. Naerys nodded. “I know you probably wish to return to the feast, but I was wondering if you might dance with my son, Daemon. I fear he does not like dancing too much and I have made it a rule that for each dance he participates in, he can have an extra lemon cake.” 

Naerys nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ll go dance with Celia,” Jaehaerys said, pressing a kiss to her cheek before letting go of her hand. 

She felt nervous without her cousin by her side; especially because she didn’t know the Dornish prince well. Heat rose to her cheeks as Prince Daemon took her hand in his. It was a slow dance and a slightly more wistful one. It was the song her parents often danced to at feasts and Naerys knew she was blushing terribly. 

“You are a good dancer, Princess,” Prince Daemon said gently as they danced. 

“Thank you,” she replied. “But a dancer is only as good as her partner.”

He chuckled. “You might not be as good then at the moment,” he said. “I’m not really good at it.”

“As long as we don’t run into people, we should be okay,” she told him. 

She heard her Aunt Arya’s bell ring a little closer than it should have been and Prince Daemon brought her closer to him to avoid a collision. Her face was against his chest and heat continued to rise in her cheeks as he apologized. 

He smelled like Grandmother Elia, at least a little bit. He smelled like spice and lilies and parchment and something else she could not name. His hand was warm in her own and on the small of her back. She was not used to boys being so tall in comparison to her. But he was nine and she was only seven. 

“Could you tell me about Dorne?” Naerys asked, trying to fill the silence as she felt her heart flutter slightly in her chest. She’d never danced with a boy that was not her family before. “I was learning about Princess Meria Martell, but all the books are written by Targaryen scholars.”

He missed a step in the dance, possibly surprised at her question, but he found the next one quickly. “Sure. Aunt Rhaenys said our books are different from yours as well.”

The two began to began to converse about the differences and Naerys found herself more and more at ease with the boy holding her and found themselves continuing to dance into the next song. 

—

It was then time to receive some of the gifts from her family and a few of the prominent lords and ladies at court. Seasmoke sat in her lap as the person announcing her gifts recited them off to her as well as the sender. It was both so she knew what they were and who they were from and so Maester Uther could write them down and she could dictate thank you letters to each person. 

“And last, but not least,” her grandfather said. “Here is my gift to you, my sweet girl.” He paused and she could hear a slight gasp amongst the people and Naerys wondered what it was her grandfather was showing the people. “It took me many years to find such treasures which had been lost to our family for many generations. At last they have been found.”

A crow began to cry in the distance and Naerys felt her heart stutter in her chest. 

_Wolf! Dragon!_

“I present to you, my little dragon, three dragon eggs.”

_Wolf! Dragon!_

She heard her grandfather draw near by the sound of his bell and held out her hands and he placed a large egg in her hands and felt scales scratch painfully against her palm as she felt the eggs warmth. 

_Wolf! Dragon!_

Seasmoke whimpered in her lap and Naerys’ heart began to twist painfully in her chest. 

She bit her lip to not cry out at the main of the warm egg and is scratching scales. It felt as though something great and terrible lay sleeping. She felt a chill run down her spine as though a shadow had passed over her. 

She did not want them. She did not want whatever it was that beat beneath the petrified shell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was a kid, I did indeed think that I would not actually turn a certain age until I celebrated my birthday.  
> She was also dreaming of a certain boy! 😘
> 
> Dance with her papa! 😭 and she misses Alysanne 😭😭😭 gosh I can’t imagine losing someone as she did.
> 
> Dancing with her family. What did you guys think of her dance with Jaehaerys and then Daemon? ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> Y’all wanted dragons? You got dragons? But what will be the cost?


	22. Waymar I

The Vale had stopped feeling like home the moment he had first laid with Arianne. From that moment on, Waymar’s home was not a place, but his wife, the warmth of her embrace and her tender, and sometimes fierce, affection. Then it grew to two and then three people. Their sons were a part of that home that Waymar had created for himself. His family. 

Even so, his first house words,  _ we remember _ , echoed in his very bones. He remembered these mountains, these hills and lands. He had been raised with them, the cool air that burned the lungs the further up the mountains he would trek. This was his first safety, a home his mother and father had made for him. These were the mountains and people who made them into the man he became, the man that Arianne loved. 

He missed the place he had grown up, but not once did he ever regret leaving the Vale or his house to be with Arianne. She and their children meant the world to him and he would never regret them. Even so, he wished that his father were able to know the boys, able to see them instead of just read about them in letters. Both men had not done the most that they could to be a part of the other’s life. They were both at fault in a way. 

Ser Yohn Royce had not been especially pleased when Waymar had fallen for Arianne. The Dornish were still occasionally viewed as being uncivilized and uncultured, something Waymar never properly understood, especially after living in Dorne for so long. The two had fought terribly in the last day Waymar spent in the Eyrie and his father had not come to the wedding at all, his eldest brother and two of his sisters coming instead. 

Now it was time to mend the severed ties and try to make things right. 

Even so, Waymar wished he were returning under better circumstances. 

—

“It is good to see you, Ser Waymar,” Allyn Baelish said with a smile. 

The actual bastard had been legitimized upon the request of his father, Lord Petyr Bealish. Waymar’s father had never been fond of Lord Baelish, better known as Littlefinger. The man was calculating and always seemed to have a thought, which would bring a smirk to his lips, that would go unshared amongst them. Allyn was not so different. 

Allyn was his father in miniature, save for his dark brown eyes that looked almost black. He was less than a decade younger than Waymar, so the two had very little to do with one another when they were boys. Even if they had been closer in age, he doubted that they would have been much in the other’s company. Their personalities were far too different. 

“Lord Allyn,” Waymar said with a nod. “How fares the Vale and the Eyrie.”

Allyn frowned slightly. “As well as it can be with Lord Arryn being sick. Lady Arryn is running most of the Vale at this point and Lady Lysa is causing more upset with her moaning about her  _ sweet boy _ .”

Waymar kept his face impassive. The second marriage of Lady Lysa had caused quite a stir in the Vale. Marrying Petyr Baelish was not ideal at all, they felt as though, should a child be produced from such a union would displace Robin, however, no such child was produced.

“Lord Arryn is her only child. As a father myself I know I would drop anything should they be unwell.”

“I have been blessed with no children,” Allyn said. “So I suppose my input is unneeded.”

“Has anything else happened recently?”

“The mountain clans have grown bolder more recently, acting like the Northern wildlings. I’ve heard rumors that they are even carrying steel now.”

Waymar narrowed his eyes. The mountain clans had always been a worry within the Vale. They were a lawless bunch, descending upon smallfolk and lords alike when they wished, to rob or kill or rape, scattering like birds whenever a knight rode from the Vale to search for them.

They had never been considered too much of a threat. A worry, yes, but not too much of a problem, their raids being few and far between. However, if they had grown bolder recently and carrying steel, then they were becoming more of a concern than a worry.

“Has anything been done?”

“Your father has sent the knights out to search for their dwelling place, but they are always on the movie and know the more dangerous parts of the mountain than we do.” Allyn sighed. “It is just more problems than we need at the moment.” He glanced about Waymar and the Dornish men that had come with him. “I had thought that the crown prince would be with you.”

“Princess Naerys’ nameday just passed and he preferred to be with his family, considering their recent loss.” Waymar glared at the younger lord. 

Allyn bowed his head. “Of course. It only shows the good nature of our prince. I’m certain Sansa is quite glad to have him by her side.”

“ _ Princess _ Sansa indeed made such gladness known to most of the Red Keep if my wife’s letters speak true.”

Waymar saw Allyn’s lip twitch in annoyance. “I shall take you up the mountain now, Ser.”

Allyn had fostered in the North for a time, after his legitimization. Lord Baelish was a busy man and had no wife to care for his son. Although Lord Jon Arryn would have been a wise choice, Lord Baelish had asked that Allyn be fostered at Winterfell. He had been close to Princess Sansa, although that was based on his own words and not the princess’. To Waymar’s memory, the Stark princess had never once spoken of him or asked after him. 

Even so, Waymar did not care for the man’s over familiarity with the crown prince’s wife. 

—

Waymar and his men were brought to the High Hall where Lord Arryn sat upon the weirwood throne, his wife next to him in a chair he had made for her out of a white wood similar to the weirwood. 

Robin Arryn has always been a rather sickly boy in his youth, but had gotten better once he turned thirteen. However, now he looked so very pale, his eyes carried dark circles beneath them and his lips were the same color of his skin, almost like wax paper. Shireen has not been exaggerating when she said her husband was doing poorly. 

The lady in question had her hand upon her husband’s as she smiled gratefully to Waymar as he was introduced to them. She had the Baratheon look with slight Florent features. Her face and neck were marred by greyscale scars, but most, especially those in the Vale, saw it as her determined spirit that she had survived such a deadly illness at such a young age. Her father’s love for her was apparent in that he has striven for such a good match between her and Lord Arryn. 

“It is good to see you, Ser Waymar,” Robin said, his voice a little weary. “I have no doubt you wished to be with your wife and children, but your presence here, under the authority of my cousin’s husband, is welcome. I offer you salt and bread and am happy to have you back in the home of our fathers.”

Waymar bowed his head. “I am happy to be of your service, my lord. My men and I seek to help you with your troubles, those including the mountain clans.”

He could sense the tension in the room at the mention of the wildlings. Waymar accepted the salt and bread, thankful that such traditions were still in place. Simply having the authority of the crown brings behind him would not protect him completely from those who might seek to halt his process of seeking out the truth. 

“Thank you so much, Ser Waymar,” Shireen said gently, her voice strong and clear. “The Eyrie welcomes you back into its halls.”

He bowed his head. “Thank you, my lady.”

“May I present my children, Arwen and Mathos Arryn.” The lady turned. “Mya.”

Robert Baratheon’s bastard daughter stepped forward with two small children. The oldest, Arwen, had reddish brown hair with bright blue eyes. She held onto the older woman’s skirt and gave a shaky curtsy. Waymar had to smile. The girl was truly adorable. Mathos took after his father in appearance and was only one and in the woman’s arms. The boy was happy and smiling. Waving at the crowd of people like a proper lordling, causing Waymar to chuckle. 

“They are beautiful my lady,” he said. “They make me miss my own children. Perhaps, one day, I might bring them for a visit.”

“They would be most welcome,” Robin said with a nod. “Now that we have done our formal greetings, I shall let you and your men head to your chambers to rest. I have no doubt you are all quite weary from your journey. We have laid out cloaks as well for your men who may not be familiar or acclimated to the cold weather of the Eyrie.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Ser Yohn, I ask that you show them the way. I believe you should be allowed a moment alone with your son after all these years.”

Waymar’s father bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

—

“Thank you for coming, Waymar,” Shireen said as he was brought to her and Robin’s solar. The lord had taken to his bed again, exhausted from so little effort. “I apologize that my husband is not able to stay up and speak with you for longer.”

“Not at all,” Waymar said, shaking his head. He took Shireen’s hand and kissed it. “It is better that he recover. You must also find time to rest, my lady. I am a husband and father myself. I know the signs of pregnancy too.”

Shireen smiled and touched her belly carefully. “It is far too soon to share such news with the rest of the Vale, but the maester did confirm such things. It is part of why Robin and I are so worried. Mathos is young and healthy, but Robin had been doing so very well recently, yet he suddenly fell so violently ill. It is, indeed, poison. Although we have checked for such things at present, he has still been affected and is weathering the effects even now.”

“I will get to the bottom of this, my lady,” Waymar promised. “I shall even call for your uncle if I deem it necessary. But I shall get the children away from here first if I sense there is a danger. Mathos can come to Dorne and, since I am here on behalf of the crown prince, I can offer Arwen to be fostered in the Red Keep with the princesses.”

Shireen breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Waymar. It has been so stressful recently and my good mother…”

“Lady Lysa has never been one to do well in a time of crisis,” Waymar agreed. “Tell me, are there any who you suspect had a hand in the poisoning of your husband?”

Shireen shook her head. “I do not know. It would be someone with aspirations greater than the Vale, or at least someone who works for such a person. It has only been six years since my good father passed away and I fear that people may see this as a good time to bid for power. My children are so very young and I…”

Tears began to spill down the young woman’s cheeks. However, before Waymar could offer her comfort, Robin came from his rooms, like a ghost. The young man went to his wife and held her in his arms. He stroked her hair gently and spoke softly to her. Robin looked at Waymar with determined, but weary, eyes. 

“My wife and children come first, Waymar. Promise me that you will put them first.”

Waymar gave a deep bow before getting on his knees. “I swear it before the old gods and the new. I shall keep your family safe.”

Robin nodded. “That’s all I ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waymar missing his wife and kids. Honestly, man of the hour. Lol  
> I always found it a little odd that NO ONE seemed to be trying to marry their children into the Martell family. The Lannisters pushed Myrcella, but those were under particular circumstances. I just find it odd and I wonder if racism had anything to do with it. 
> 
> And, introducing Allyn Baelish. Keep an eye on him and his father. Keep a very close eye.
> 
> Introduction to the Vale and Robin and Shireen. They’re close in age, although I made Robin a little older in this than he is in canon, but I think it works.
> 
> Poor Shireen is under way too much stress considering her condition. And Robin being a loving husband who just wants what’s best for his wife and kids 😭
> 
> Rhaenys is getting a POV next. This will be fun and more politics are in store and a possible plan to annoy the heck out of Rhaegar will begin to be formed.


	23. Rhaenys I

Rhaenys watched as the children played together. The younger ones were running around, at least those old enough to, while the older children were sitting around Naerys, holding the dragon eggs and passing them around to touch them, although they did so carefully since they were heavy. 

They were beautiful, Rhaenys thought. They were so richly colored that she thought they were crusted with jewels and one was painted with gold. The eggs were covered in tiny scales and shimmered like polished metal in the sunlight of the garden. One egg was a deep green with bronze flecks that ran like painted rivers on the maps of Westeros. Another was a midnight black with ripples of scarlet pulsing through the darkness. A true Targaryen looking egg, Rhaenys thought. The last egg was a cream color with streaks of gold more prominent against the paleness. 

Naerys seemed to prefer the last egg above the others. She had been presented with the black egg at her nameday feast and Rhaenys could remember her niece squirming ever so slightly at the touch of it. The jade egg did not seem to bother her as much, but gravitated towards the cream egg above that. 

She told the other children that the eggs were warm, but none but two could feel any heat from them. Jaehaerys and Daemon were the other children who claimed to feel the eggs’ warmth. While Rhaenys has no doubt that her little cousin could feel the warmth, she wondered if her nephew truly could or if he simply didn’t want Naerys to feel strange for her thoughts on the eggs. Rhaenys’ father had seemed almost disappointed that her daughter Elia could not feel any warmth from the dragon eggs. 

Her father claimed they came from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, although Rhaenys wondered if such things were true. Then again, she could remember her brothers mentioning a red priestess coming to the Red Keep a few years ago. Rhaenys has been at Sunspear then so she couldn’t be certain however she wondered if it was the priestess who gave the eggs. And if so, why. 

She shook her head. 

Maester Uther sat amongst the children and had decided to make the moment into a lesson about the history of dragons, but more specifically their eggs. 

“Although we do not know how it is that a dragon hatches their eggs,” Maester Uther spoke. “During the reign of King Viserys I, it became tradition for royal children to have an egg placed in the cradle with them. It is said that how a dragon hatched might tell more about the little prince and princess and what sort of person they might be.”

“So they were taken from their mother?” Naerys asked. “Why could they not sit in them like birds do on their own eggs?”

“Would a mother dragon crush them?” Daemon asked. “Did the dragons trust the Targaryens and the other Valyrians to look after the eggs?”

“Does the size of the eggs indicate which dragon would be largest?” Jaehaerys inquired. 

“There are many books written on such things, but most are simple hypothesis, especially on the beginnings of the relationship between Valyrians and dragons, most records were lost during the Doom.”

Daemon Sand stood next to Rhaenys as she watched. “A load of trouble those eggs are,” he muttered. “I doubt they’ll hatch.”

“Even if they do, I doubt they would be big.” Rhaenys said. “The last dragon was the size of a dog, if I remember correctly.”

“The king must have paid quite a hefty sum for them,” Daemon sighed. “Money that could have been better spent on something else.”

“Like repairs in Flea Bottom for the recent fire that broke out.”

“I went down to check to see if there was anything Dorne could do.”

“And?”

“We could probably send some architects from Sunspear to help them find a better material to use to build a more fire resistant area. You’d think with the original dragons, they would have thought of such things.”

Rhaenys scoffed. “I doubt the thought crossed their minds.” She looked at her friend. “I believe I saw you speaking with Ser Renly at the feast. My brother says he is quite a good man.”

Daemon blushed. “That he is. But he is a Baratheon and I doubt any would feel pleased…”

“Most would not feel pleased regardless,” Rhaenys counted. “It is better to find happiness when you can.” She looked at her daughter and smiled sadly. “Such happiness can sometimes be fleeting.”

—

“Mother, Sansa is here to help you, even Margaery,” Rhaenys said sitting down next to her mother’s bed. “You need not overwork yourself, you are not the reigning queen. Have Lyanna do it.”

“I do not wish to be a burden,” her mother said stubbornly. 

“You are not a burden and you know it. You just hate sitting still when there are things to do. Don’t think I don’t see the way you try to keep up with the children.”

Her mother sighed. “They’re legs are getting so long,” she lamented. “Soon I shall not be able to keep pace. 

Rhaenys smiled and shook her head. “I am sure the little ones would enjoy you cuddling with them.”

“I am an excellent cuddler.”

“The reigning queen.” Rhaenys put her hand over her mother’s. “Truly, how have you been feeling recently?”

“Tired, but that is not new. So much has happened recently that I feel like the world is spinning.” She squeezes Rhaenys’ hand. “And how are you, sweetling?”

“I miss Dorne, even though it has not been so long since I came here nor will it be long till I return.”

“I’m sorry for not making this keep feel more like home to you.”

“That is not your fault mother. I simply prefer Sunspear.”

It was her father’s fault in truth. His obvious favoritism towards his sons, the disappointment he seemed to always have for her. His constant belittlement of her accomplishments. The company he kept in Jon Connington did not help either. She had learned to accept and live with Lyanna as her father’s wife, but she could not stand Jon Connington. 

“Even so, I wish you and my namesake could stay more often.”

“Me too. I promise I shall come for her next nameday so we might celebrate it together.”

“That sounds perfectly delightful, sweetling. I await it with anticipation.”

—

“You wished to see me, Father?” Rhaenys asked, entering her father’s solar.

“Yes, there are things I would like to discuss with you. Take a seat.”

Rhaenys did as her father instructed and felt a bit of unease. “Is it my father or my king that I speak to.”

“Both,” her father replied. 

“I shan’t marry, Father. I do not wish to, especially to whatever man you have decided for me.”

“It is your duty as a princess, Rhaenys. You are not getting any younger.”

“And?”

“Elia cannot be your only child, the Targaryens must endure.”

“They appear to be enduring quite well,” Rhaenys said. “Even if there are only three boys to carry on the name, surely that is enough.”

“You were to marry Viserys.”

“And I made that abundantly clear that it wasn’t going to happen. Gods, he is like a brother to me.”

Her father glared at her. “The Targaryens have intermarried for years.”

“Ah yes, and that did so well for us when the rebellion came and we had no allies save for Dorne who you married into. Although I doubt you would have the same support as you did then.”

“Rhaenys,” he said in warning. 

“I speak only the truth,” she replied curtly. 

“I have no wish to marry, especially someone of your choosing. I have found I have little care for men. Most I have seen are quite the disappointment.”

She’d had sex only a handful of times and found it repelant. Rhaenys had never really felt a need for it or had any real interest in anyone in that way. If she could go the rest of her life without sex she could care less. The only reason she had sex the few times she did is because she thought it was her partners’ fault instead of her own disinterest in it. 

“It is your duty,” her father said darkly. 

“I am a woman grown with a child, a bastard one at that,” she said curtly. “I doubt any would wish their sons upon me.” She breathed out through her nose. “Besides, if you wish to make alliances and do some actual good within our family, you could send Dany away to marry. She would be useful than and perhaps given less of a chance to cause another issue. Dany was never one to stay still for long.”

“Your aunt has no place in marriage,” her father said and Rhaenys’ eyes narrowed. “She would be better to hold close for now.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It is none of your concern.”

Rhaenys frowned. “It does not change the fact that I shall not marry.”

“Marriage is a wonderful thing.”

“Is that why you did it twice?”

Her father scowled, but Rhaenys stood before he could say anything. She left, not wishing to start an argument with her father in the first place. 

—

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your guardianship?” Rhaenys asked, accepting Ser Renly’s offered hand. 

“It was either me or the Lord Hand and I did not wish to help Jon’s sister in the disposal of a body.”

Rhaenys snickered. “Wise choice indeed, it would put quite the damper on everyone’s mood.”

“Jon also wished for me to check on you as you just came from seeing your father. He would have come himself, but Naerys has climbed a tree.”

“Seven Hells, how did she manage that?”

“One of the children, she remained rather tight lipped on who, dared her to. I have no doubt that they said Aly… her sister would have done it as well.”

Rhaenys squeezed the knight’s arm. There was such a hollow feeling at the times a thought of Alyssane crossed her mind. She could not imagine the pain Jon and Sansa must go through daily. Rhaenys found that she herself often awoke with no thought of her little niece being gone, but then she would see Naerys unaccompanied and it felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. 

“She would have indeed,” Rhaenys said quietly. “And Storm’s End?” she asked, wishing not to dwell on the previous topic. “Any recent word from your brother?”

“He has begun to annoy me with lists of eligible maidens that might put me in the  _ right _ direction.”

She sighed for him. “I am so sorry.”

He shrugged. “I have contemplated taking the white, but the clothing choices are so restrictive and then I would also have to go without a Fock or two.”

Rhaenys chuckled. “You can have whatever my father is trying to offer me.”

“Is he still trying to get you to marry? I would have thought he would have given up by now or maybe out more thought in his sister’s marriage.”

“He is trying to build up alliances,” she shakes her head. “Or so he says. I have no doubt that I would not care for the alliances he is trying to make.”

“It would be with a Lannister, no doubt. One of Margaery’s cousins married Lancel Lannister.”

Rhaenys groaned. “I want so little to do with either of those families. Joffrey is all well and good, but he is Dornish through and through. I can hardly stand my Aunt Cersei.”

“I don’t blame you. I met the woman once and found her rather sour.”

“She is so much worse and her obvious favoritism is annoying.”

“Well, I suppose it’s good then that you can keep fighting against such marriages. I shall endeavor to do the same.”

“We shall be allies then.”

Renly laughed. “Of the most reputable kind, Princess.”

“And perhaps I shall even add a few good words for my sworn shield?”

At the mention of Daemon Sand, Renly blushed and Rhaenys grinned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They children’s questions about the eggs show a bit of their personalities, don’t you think?  
> And Daemon Sand in the HOUSE 🥳
> 
> Sweet mother and daughter moment. Elia’s fine, she’s just tired from playing with the kids.
> 
> Rhaegar being a jerk, but what’s new?
> 
> Renly and Rhaenys friendship and mutual dislike of their family trying to get them married.
> 
> And in case people were wondering, yes, Rhaenys is ace.
> 
> And Jon has a chapter next which means.... Jonsa sex!


	24. Jon IV

“A betrothal would better solidify Naerys’ place as your heir,” Jon’s father said plainly. “Surely you can see that.”

“It is not that I can’t see it, I simply look at the fact that my daughter is only seven years old.”

“It would be a betrothal,” the king urged. “I would not ask that they marry, but it would be best if there was an understanding so Maerys might grow accustomed to the idea of a marriage to Jaehaerys.”

Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was tired of fighting this battle with his father. He was tired of having to make the same point over and over. 

“ _You_ were the one that took Aegon out of the line of succession, whether that was the right decision or not, that was the one you made. It means that Jaehaerys has no right to the throne. Forcing a betrothal between him and my daughter would make it appear that you don’t care to follow your own decisions.”

“We must appease the Tyrells and the Reach. Is it not the Stark words that _winter is coming?_ We need the food from the Reach.”

Jon frowned. “The citadel doesn’t think a long winter will come any time soon, besides, they owe us the grain for nearly starting another civil war.”

“You do not understand what is at stake, Jon.”

He drew closer to his father. “Then explain it to me. By all the gods, explain to me why you are doing what you are doing? Why did you give my daughter dragon eggs? Why have you allowed the words of a red priestess to rattle you so? Are they not something she gave you?”

Jon’s father shook his head. “It is not time yet, not until everything falls into place. Then, I will tell you everything. Regardless, Naerys shall be queen and Jaehaerys should rule alongside her.”

“The Tyrells would never allow Jaehaerys to be merely her equal. They would expect him to be the king, not a queen’s consort.”

“They will learn to take what they are given,” the king said with such certainty that if he had spoken an actual fact, Jon would not have laughed. 

“And if Sansa and I were to have a son?” Jon asked. “If my wife and I have a boy to become my heir over Naerys?”

The look the king gave was dark and a chill ran down Jon’s spine. “The gods have already declared that Naerys is to be your heir and Jaehaerys is to be her husband with Little Elia by their side.”

Jon’s lips formed a thin line. “I will not allow for such a thing. Naerys is my daughter and I do not wish for her to marry within the family when there are options far better for her and the rest of Westeros.”

The king ‘s violet eyes were dark and dangerous. “I am doing this for Westeros and, until you are king yourself, you have no power here beside what I give you. If I say Naerys is to marry Jaehaerys, then that is what she will one day do.”

“You’ve made it abundantly clear that betrothals mean nothing to you, Father,” Jon said curtly. “You might be our king, but I am Naerys’ father. I will not allow the Targaryens to fall back on selling their daughters into unhappiness for a few gold coins. Not when there are possibilities of them being truly loved and respected.”

—

Sansa was like moonlight. Her hair like a flickering flame as she tossed it over her shoulder. Her hands were cold against his chest as she sank down onto his length until she was fully seated atop him. 

“Gods,” Jon hissed. He could still feel her fluttering about him from when he had brought her to completion with his tongue and fingers. She squeezed his already hard cock and it took every ounce of Jon’s control to not spill in her then, to not flip them onto her back to pound away into her welcoming heat and find his own absolution as she screamed his name. 

Jon gripped his wife’s thighs as she began to roll her hips until she found a steady rhythm. He watched as he disappeared inside and groaned at the feeling of her muscles against his hands as the tensed and relaxed. 

Her red hair slipped down her shoulder and looked against his chest like molten fire, tickling at his skin as he began to roll his hips up to meet hers. 

“Oh, Jon,” Sansa sighed as he seemed to hit just the right spot inside her. “There,” she said, her breath hitching. Oh, gods, there.”

“Tell me what you want, love,” he begged, sliding his hand up her thigh until he was at the crease between her leg and hip. His thumb went idly to the thatch of hair between her legs and her breath hitched again. “Look at you. Gods.”

“Take me,” she breathed. “Take me like a wolf.” Sansa shuddered against him and he knew she was close. “My quiet wolf.”

She slid off of him, shuddering as Jon growled. He was still painfully hard and felt his cock grow harder still as he watched his wife get on her hands and knees on their bed. Jon scrambled up until he was behind her. He steadied himself with a hand to their bed’s headboard and another hand to her hip as he guided himself inside her. 

He groaned at the angle, at the tightness of it. He stayed there for a moment, gathering his resolve before snapping his hips against her. Sansa cried out and he could hear the smile upon her lips as he set a steady pace of his own, letting her push back against his hips letting her grind against him. 

Once he had become steady enough, Jon let go of the headboard and covered her with his body and he continued to take her like the beast on her house sigil. 

“Wolves mate for life,” he said, his voice deep and wanting. “Is that what you are, my little wife? My mate? The one the gods have made for me?”

He took his hand to her breast and squeezed before kissing her back, the salt of her sweat against his tongue before he let his lips go to her neck and licked at her pulse point. 

“Oh, Jon!”

“What are you Sansa?” he demanded softly, egging her on with a hard snap of his hips. “What are you?”

“Your mate,” she moaned. Her hand went behind her and her fingers tangled in his hair as she fisted at him. “Yours, yours!”

A howl ripped from Jon’s throat as he felt her fall apart around him and she cried out beautifully as he spilled into her. They collapsed upon the bed, their hips still slightly raised and Jon still buried deep inside her. 

Jon pulled from her and kept her in his arms, taking her lips with his own as they tangled together once more. 

—

Jon always felt nervous around Princess Elia. Not because she had ever been cruel in his childhood. 

She had always been the opposite, kind and loving and gentle when his own mother found little time to care for the crying boy who often felt too much at times. The Dornish princess had always been kind to Jon and had been kinder still to Sansa, taking her under her wing and treating her as though she truly had become her good daughter. She had been wonderful with Jon and Sansa’s children too. They trusted her with them more than he did his own mother. 

Even so, Jon was nervous. 

Ever since he knew and understood what his birth and presence in the capital meant, ever since he could truly understand why he did not share a mother with Rhaenys and Aegon, Jon felt as though he was forever mistepping. His mother’s place should have rightfully been the princess’. Even now, after taking Aegon’s place as heir, Jon only felt worse. 

“Thank you for seeing me, your grace,” he said with a bow. He took her hand in his own and kissed it. “I merely wish to speak of the Martell plans for betrothal.”

The woman smiled and motioned for him to take a seat. “I am well aware that Naerys is much too young, but I believe it is best for options to be given.”

“It is Daemon that Prince Doran is suggesting?”

“Yes,” the Princess said. “He’s a sweet boy, a little rebellious, but I think he would grow to care for Naerys in time.”

“But there would be no contract?”

“No, nothing official. It would appear that there are talks which we could pass as thinking on the betrothal with Jaehaerys as well.”

“Would you want Jaehaerys to be betrothed to Naerys?”

Princess Elia smiled sadly. “A part of me would not mind it. I would not mind for the rift between our two sides of the family to be mended. I would not mind the bond between brothers to be fixed, but I fear the Tyrell influence in court. They are a powerful house, even in summer. They have also married with some of the remaining Lannisters and I know that there is a possible ally in the Ironborn for them.”

“The Ironborn have been weak since their rebellion.”

“Weaker,” the princess corrected. “They are still quite strong. And, even though you are friends with Ser Renly and Sansa is a good cousin to Lord Baratheon’s daughter…”

“The Lord of Storm’s End still holds a grudge against us for Lord Robert.”

“Yes, I have no doubt he would side with the Tyrells, especially if he believed that Jaehaerys has a better right to the throne.”

Jon closed his eyes. “I do not wish for another war.”

“None do.”

“Your grace, sometimes I feel as though I don’t belong here, that, if I were a more selfish man I would take my family and go North or evening to Dorne where they might be away from all of this. Why did you stay, after everything my parents did to you?”

Princess Elia smiled. “Love.”

Jon chuckled before standing. “I shall leave you to rest, your grace.”

He went to Princess Elia’s door and was slightly surprised to find Ser Arthur Dayne outside the door. 

“Ser,” Jon said nodding his head. The older knight coughed and bowed slightly to Jon before greeting Princess Elia, Jon closing the door behind him.

—

Jon and Aegon were sparring together, using wooden swords instead of live steel as the children in the keep, particularly the boys had taken to running in to talk to them and the two fathers felt better about not them being so close to steel when they didn’t have to be. 

“Father!” Jaehaerys called, coming up to them. “Uncle Jon!”

The brothers stopped and looked at the boy as he came towards them, holding his own practice sword. Aegon opened his arms and smiled as his son ran into him. Jon’s brother lifted the boy and pressed a kiss to his white curls. 

“Can you train me?” Jaehaerys asked. “I want to be a great knight that protects Princess Naerys from bad guys.”

Jon chuckled at his nephew’s simplistic reason to train. “Are you to be her sword shield then?”

“Mhm!” He nodded. “Naerys is my cousin and princess and _I_ am going to protect her.”

Jon smiled. Even though he did not approve of a betrothal, he did encourage the friendship between his eldest daughter and his nephew. 

“What do you say, Jon?” Aegon asked. “Shall we show him a bit?”

“I don’t see why not,” Jon replied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar trying to be manipulative and Jon trying to call him out on stuff.
> 
> Jonsa. Nuff said 😘 They will talk more in the next Sansa chapter. Plot is going to start to double down so there’s going to be less sex the further in we go. 
> 
> Jon and Elia speaking and a bit more on why Elia isn’t approving the betrothal between her grandson and Naerys. Also a hit if understanding of who would and could oppose Naerys as queen. 
> 
> Jaehaerys will get a POV next! And, sadly, Dany will be appearing in that chapter too.


	25. Jaehaerys II

Another feast was held in celebration of Aunt Rhaenys’ nameday as well. Although the adults rarely celebrated the dates of their birth anymore, since the day was so close to Naerys’ and everyone was still in the Red Keep, Grandfather has announced they would hold a feast for Rhaenys as well. 

Personally, Jaehaerys would prefer to be out in the courtyard training with his father and uncle. He wanted to learn how to be the sort of person Naerys could depend on when she became queen and he her king. He wanted her to know that he would always protect her. Uncle Jon complimented Jaehaerys often on his legwork and said that he would make a very good knight one day. The memory made Jaehaerys smile. Grandfather often said that a good knight often made the best of kings. 

Jaehaerys turned his attention to the dance floor, where Naerys was dancing with the second Dornish prince, Daemon. 

Naerys was radiant as always. She was dressed in Stark grey with red embroidery that ran down the bodice and the skirt like flickering flames. Her hair was loose, save for a braided crown circling her head. She wore a necklace that Jaehaerys had given her one year ago and he felt a lot of pride at that. 

However, she appeared to enjoy dancing with Prince Daemon, usually at Princess Arianne’s insistence, but Naerys still agreed to it. 

The Dornish prince was wearing his house colors, dressed very similarly to Great Uncle Oberyn, although his collar was buttoned to the top. He was taller than Naerys so they looked more natural on the dance floor as they twirled about. 

“Do not worry, my little dragon,” his mother said, smoothing his hair and pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’ll dance with Naerys soon.”

Jaehaerys nodded, but still watched. His stomach churned ever so slightly as he saw Naerys’ lips break out into a huge smile as Jaehaerys heard her bell like giggle mingle amongst the sound of the music. The Dornish prince grinned and said something else, causing Naerys to giggle some more. 

Jaehaerys didn’t understand the appeal of the Dornish prince. He was too quiet and seemed much too bookish, although he supposed that was one thing to talk to Naerys about since she loved history. He was more Dornish looking than his older brother Olyvar, who took after his Valeman father. Even Aunt Rhaenys had something Targaryen features, her dark eyes turning a darker purple in firelight. 

No, Jaehaerys didn’t understand Naerys’ enjoyment of the Dornish prince. 

As soon as the song reached its end, Jaehaerys was out of his seat and made his way to Naerys and the other boy. 

“May I have the next dance, Princess?”

She was already turning at the sound of his bell and smiled. “Of course.”

Jaehaerys took her hand and smirked at the Dornish prince who merely raised an eyebrow as he led Naerys into the next dance. 

—

“Aunt Dany,” Jaehaerys bowed slightly to the older Targaryen princess. 

“How is my favorite nephew?” she asked, cupping his cheeks in her hands. 

“Grand-nephew,” he corrected. Uncle Viserys’ son, Brandon, was her only nephew besides Jaehaerys’ father. 

Aunt Daenerys laughed. “Quite right. Shall we take a turn in the gardens, little dragon?”

Mother had told Jaehaerys to be kind to the Targaryen princess with kindness, but he still felt a little wary of her. Naerys had told him that she didn’t much like Aunt Daenerys and, to be honest, he didn’t much like how the older woman was with any of the children beside him. It was as though she were playing favorites. Perhaps it was because she and his mother were good friends, but it did not stop Jaeharys from feeling a little uncomfortable around the woman. 

“These were my mother’s gardens,” she said as they passed the rose bushes. “I am told that she spent much of her time here, that my father gifted them to her when Rhaegar was born.”

She sighed. “The last true Targaryen marriage.”

Jaehaerys narrowed his eyes, unsure of what the older woman was trying to say. “Uncle Viserys says that Queen Rhaella was in love with a knight from the Stormlands.”

He had thought the love quite sad, that a man of a lowly birth fell in love with a woman he could never have and a princess falling in love with a man so far below her that she could not even contemplate the possibility of it. 

“A passing fancy,” Aunt Daenerys said. “My mother was always meant to be queen, just as my father was always meant to be king.” 

Jaehaerys shuddered slightly, remembering his mother telling him and the other children stories of his great grandfather, the Mad King. Sometimes, in games, Jaehaerys would pretend he was Ser Jaime Lannister, come to defeat the Mad Dragon. Alysanne always played the Mad King, playing up his rage by spouting nonsensical things that usually got Naerys and the other children in the keep, who took turns playing Grandmother Elia and Jaehaerys’ father and Aunt Rhaenys, laughing. Jaehaerys had a distinct memory of Alys threatening to burn his toast for all eternity and all the children had found it quite funny until the next morning Jaehaerys got a burnt piece of toast when he broke his fast and they all thought Alys’ curse was true. 

Aunt Daenerys sighed. “It is such a shame that Alysanne is gone.” 

Jaeharys bowed his head. He missed his cousin. He missed her laughter and her wide grins. He missed having someone to spar with. She was supposed to be his Visenya, based on what Grandfather told him. She was his best friend, the person he could go to when nothing made sense. But, now, the world made so little sense without her. 

“She was so much more like a Targaryen than Naerys is.” 

Jaehaerys stopped in his tracks and looked up at the woman with wide eyes. Was she… was she saying what he thought she was? 

“Naerys  _ is  _ a Targaryen,” he said. “Alys was a wolf.” Even though Naerys was called a fish, Jaehaerys knew she was a dragon, he could sense it in her, just as he could sense it in himself. 

“ _ Alysanne _ ,” Aunt Daenerys corrected. “I merely mean that Alysanne’s nature was more in line with a dragon’s.” 

Jaehaerys took his hand from the woman’s grasp. “You're just mad that Aunt Sansa and Naerys will be queen one day.” 

Daenerys’ gaze snapped towards him, her violet eyes stormy. 

Jaehaerys stepped away from her. “Excuse me, Aunt, but I need to go to my lessons.” 

He left quickly and told himself that he would tell his mother that he did not wish to be left alone with his great aunt again.

—

“Jaehaerys,” his Aunt Sansa said gently. “Could you show Joanna around the keep? Normally, Naerys would do so, but Maester Uther has made some progress in his research and needs her at the moment.”

“Of course, Aunt Sansa,” he said, bowing to her. He offered his arm to the Dornish princess as his father would. “Princess Joanna.”

The girl smiled brightly. She had Lannister gold hair, but her skin was lightly tanned and her eyes were a dark hazel. Viper eyes, just like Prince Oberyn’s. She was pretty with dimples in her cheeks as her smile grew. He shook his head slightly, reminding himself that Naerys was much prettier and was meant to be his wife one day. 

She took his offered arm with a curtsy. “Prince Jaehaerys.” 

“Thank you, Jaehaerys,” Aunt Sansa said with a smile. “Bring her to the guest solar when you are done,” she said. “Her parents wish to take her riding afterwards.” 

“Yes, Aunt Sansa.” 

“Thank you princess,” the Dornish girl said. 

The two children made their way down the hall as Aunt Sansa went to Maester Uther’s solar. 

“How are you liking the Red Keep, Princess Joanna?” he asked. 

“Just Joanna is fine,” she replied. “And it's quite different from Sunspear. You haven’t been, right?”

“Then you must call me Jaehaerys,” he said. “I’ve always sort of wanted to go to Sunspear,” he admitted. “It was where my grandmother was born and where she grew up. It’s like a portrait when she talks about it.”   
“The Red Keep is just like how Aunt Rhaenys talks about it. Elia too, although she exaggerated a lot.” 

Jaehaerys laughed. “She does that a lot.” 

Joanna grinned at him. “It is amazing though, how grand it is, even though it isn’t as old as the other keeps in Westeros.” 

Jaehaerys nodded. “It's amazing what the Targaryens have been able to do in their time here in comparison to the other noble houses.” The Dornish girl snorted and Jaehaerys turned to her. “What?”

“My father likes to say that things look big because we are living in them, but sometimes they are quite small when you’re on the outside looking in.” 

“I suppose.” 

She laughed. “I am surprised you haven’t learned that lesson yet, Jaehaerys.”

“And what lesson is that?” 

“A girl is always right.” 

Jaehaerys laughed. 

—

“So you prefer the black and red egg?” Grandfather asked as Jaehaerys sat on his knee. 

He nodded. “It feels so warm, sort of like Aunt Rhaenys’ cat when he’s purring.”

“A good example,” the king said. “They say that the color of dragon eggs is the color the dragon will have. I believe your egg will be the same coloring as Aegon the Conqueror’s dragon, Balerion.” 

“Really?” 

“Really,” he said, ruffling Jaehaerys’ hair slightly. “I had hoped that you would find yourself connected with that egg. I knew it would be yours the moment I saw it.” 

Jaehaerys puffed his chest out with pride. “Do you think they will hatch? Maester Uther says they are like stones.” 

“It is because Maester Uther is no Targaryen. You and Naerys both can feel the warmth of the eggs.”

“Daemon can feel the warmth of the eggs as well,” Jaehaerys said.

His grandfather frowned. “But he is not a true Targaryen, not like you or Naerys. He has no place in this song.”    
“Song?” 

The king smiled, his expression shifting as though he just recalled that Jaehaerys was there. “It is nothing you need to worry about,” he said. “Not until you are older.” He tucked some hair behind Jaehaerys’ ear. “Your dragon shall be like the Black Dread upon which our family first rose to power in Westeros. You must always remember that Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. You too will see battle one day, my little dragon, and you shall be the savior of our family and Westeros, the greatest dragon the world has ever seen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone’s jealous~~
> 
> And someone doesn’t like Dany now either. She’s going to do something big so be very wary of her.
> 
> And Joanna! Love my girl, she’s going to be so much more than she was in the original!
> 
> And 🤢 Rhaegar continuing to groom Jaehaerys


	26. Bran II

“I apologize for my lateness,” Theon said, kissing Sansa’s hand. “The winds were not in my favor and I found it to be a good teaching lesson for Eddard and Jayne.”

Bran chuckled. Although Theon was vastly more mature than he had been when they were children, he still had a rather free attitude, especially when it came to educating his children at a moment’s notice when things didn’t go quite to plan. 

“It’s alright,” Sansa replied. She turned to Theon’s wife, Lyra. “And how are you? I hear that Bear Island has been doing well too.”

“Yes, my cousin Jorah can be a right prick at times, but he can have a good head on his shoulders when he wants to, as long as he’s kept in line. He knows my mother with castrate him if he does something stupid.”

Bran could see his oldest sister’s ears go pink at the mention of such things. 

“Bran,” Theon said. “You seem to get taller by the day.”

“Or you’re shrinking,” Bran suggested. 

The Ironborn man laughed. “That I very much doubt.” He grinned cheekily, winking at Arya who merely rolled her eyes at their brother. “I suppose I must go greet the king now. Can’t we just say that I’m sick.”

“Theon, you sailed here yourself,” Arya pointed out. 

“Aye, but most don’t think I take much after my pirate family, so perhaps I do not quite have the same sea legs.”

His wife poked his side. “You  _ will  _ greet the king and then you will settle us in our chambers. Alannys is the one who has sea sickness.”

Bran glanced at the youngest girl, who was only six, and saw that she was a little pale. 

“I’ll carry her,” Viserys offered. “I’ve held plenty of sea sick children before. A sea sick wife too.”

At that, Arya poked him too and the two seafaring men shared a conspiratory look before pressing a kiss to their wife's cheeks. 

—

Bran went to the Red Keep’s godswood that night. He had tucked his children into bed and promised his wife that he would return as soon as he were able, but he didn’t quite know how he would react to the small godswood so far away from a true heart tree. 

It was a withered wood with so very little presence that it made Bran dizzy. It felt as though something was buried far beneath the ground, but even he could not seem to reach it. It was obvious that a dragon had once dwelled there, the cliff on which the godswood stood had very obvious claw marks. He wondered if this was one of the first places to be claimed by a dragon in King’s Landing. A dragon feared no gods and saw themselves as divinities made flesh. Even their Targaryen lords could not fully control them. 

Bran wondered if the dragons could sense a power that might control them and wished to destroy it, or claim it as their own, sort of like a dog when it enters a new home. 

He shook himself from his thoughts and sat down before the heat tree. The face was very obviously not carved by the Children of the Forest, the features to Valyrian, too perfect. Bran had no doubt the original heart tree, the weirwood, had long since been cut down and burned and, in order to appease some, an artist had carved a face into a new tree, one possibly in the likeness of Aegon the Conqueror. Even so, it was the closest that Bran could get to. 

He set his hand on the face and closed his eyes, allowing himself to wander beyond the way and to his master. 

The Bloodraven looked at Bran in disinterest. “Tell me of King’s Landing, he said. Seeing it in dreams is never the same as beholding it in life.”

“I did not come here to speak of your home,” Bran said with surety. 

“No,” the old Targaryen said. “I suppose not.”

“Why are you hiding Naerys and Jaehaerys from me?” he demanded. “They have a part to play in the War for the Dawn, yet you have hidden their futures from me.”

“They have so many futures,” the man said. “Children have always had endless possibilities. Perhaps there are far too many for you to comprehend.”

“You and I both know that isn’t true, I was able to see that Sansa had a future with Aegon just as much as she has one with Jon.”

“The past  _ what ifs _ are so much easier to handle.”

“You are hiding something from me,” Bran growled. “I need to know how to guide her. She’s showing signs of a greenseer and a warg, but those were not her gifts. She should not have gained them.”

“Yes, they belong to the wolf girl. It’s a shame, what happened to her. But this was a future that could have come to pass. It is a sadder one, but it will make them all stronger for it.”

“How can I help if I cannot see what to anticipate. How can I protect my niece if I cannot see her future or even those whose lives are so closely linked to hers?”

“She needs to make her own decisions and be shaped by those who surround her. You need not worry.”

Bran’s fists tightened. “It is my job to help her. I am not some loving corpse like you.”

“No, you aren’t, you are of flesh and blood and are letting your emotions get the best of you. You do not wish to guide Naerys because she is important to the war, but because she is your niece. You have much to learn, Brandon Stark.”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to protect my family.”

“Sometimes we can’t do what we wish. Wolf or dragon, such an interesting question.”

Bran narrowed his eyes. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that your niece will have a choice to make. She is bound now, to two houses and two beasts of legend. Magic is still in the world Brandon Stark, but it is fading. Mankind needs magic still if they wish to face the threat that wishes to destroy all.” Suddenly, the Bloodraven was before him, his boney finger pressed against Bran’s brow. “She has so few paths. Death awaits her in many.”

“And the ones that lead to life?”

“Perhaps sacrifices must be made.”

Bran was jerked back into his body and he cursed. Damn the old man and his riddles. He needed answers. How was he supposed to help everyone on the right path if he didn’t even know the options?

—

“Has there been any word from the Iron Islands?” Jon asked as their family gathered together in his solar. The children were all in bed along with Arya, who would give birth very soon. 

“A little,” Theon admitted. “Asha is the only one who writes to me, really. But that is more because she wishes to know about the children. Even so, she tells me of how the Iron Islands are and where they stand.”

“And?” Sansa asked nervously. 

“They think Aegon should be the crown prince, but I think this may be because the Reach has been rather… generous in trade.”

“So, bribery,” Viserys said, crossing his arms. 

Theon nodded and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “They also see the fact that Jon has only been able to have daughters as being weak. They think the same about Naerys. If a child of the Iron Islands developed blindness…” He shook his head. “They would never follow her. I have no doubt they will back a betrothal between Jaehaerys and Naerys if it means gaining a bit more leeway when it comes to their nautical pursuits.”

“So, that means the Iron Islands, the Reach, a majority of the Westerlands, and Stannis Baratheon would back the betrothal,” Bran said with a sigh. 

“Stannis?” Renly asked. 

“Your brother is rather set in his ways. No doubt he will want a man to take the throne and he dislikes Jon’s claim in general,” Bran explained. 

The Baratheon knight sighed, pinching his nose, and cursed under his breath. 

“We need to be careful then,” Jon said. “I will try to dissuade my nephew from his hopes for Naerys. I’ll foster his protective nature, but not his hopes at marriage. It is better to have the family united than to bring forth another Dance of Dragons.”

Everyone in the room murmured in agreement. 

—

A dark haired boy, a man grown in truth, stood amongst the ice, tears in his eyes as he held a flaming sword in his hand. 

“I didn’t want this,” he whispered. “I didn’t want this.”

The body of a young woman was at his feet, blood seeping into the snow, the same color as her hair, as her cold blue eyes stared up into nothing. A wolf howled in the distance, a deep mournful sound that echoed in Bran’s chest still, even as he jerked awake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay Theon! 
> 
> And what do you guys think of the Bloodraven? What did you think of what he was saying?
> 
> And people aren’t just blindly following Jon as the crown prince. There’s a lot more going on. 
> 
> And did you like your peek at Aemon?


	27. Elia II

She rarely spoke privately to the man who abandoned her and her children during the rebellion. She spoke to him often in public and granted him her council on matters that needed the queen’s attention, situations that Lyanna was ill-equipped to handle. Elia loved her people. She cared for them and wished for them to be taken care of in ways that she knew Lyanna and Rhaegar would never think of. Lyanna due to her inexperience and unwillingness to do anything that she did not wish to do; Rhaegar due to his mind always focusing on other things and never once thinking about things that mattered like food and healing and shelter. 

Now, however, Elia put herself in the same room as Rhaegar with only Ser Arthur and Jon Connington outside to guard them. It was not a position that Elia cared to be in, however she was growing worried about what she had seen in the children and Rhaegar’s plans for them. 

Rhaegar had always been a distant man. She would not call him unfeeling, for she knew he loved his children greatly, or at least she believed he did, but he held his affections close to the chest. At least, he had with her. She had no way to judge whatever private relationship he had with Lyanna. 

The marriage between herself and Rhaegar had been political, but Elia liked to imagine that if he had put any effort into it, it would have been a good one. However, that wasn’t what happened and Elia could not imagine being married still to the man who stood before her now. 

Rhaegar had aged quite a bit since the rebellion, dark circles under his eyes almost constantly, gazing upon the Northern horizon when he could as though he were waiting for something. His hair had become more grey than silvery blond and his face lined with frowns and a brood that was only matched by his youngest son and their daughter. 

“What is it you wished to speak to me about, Elia?” he asked, sitting down across from her in his solar. He had made a place for the children to sit and be close to him should they so wish to be. It was a generous thought, always making sure his children had a place of refuge in his solar, although they had rarely used it. A thought that counted, at least. 

“I am surprised you haven’t guessed it,” she replied, taking a sip of her tea. “I am certain others have come to speak with you about the same matter.” 

“There have been two, my sister and Naerys. To which are you referring to?”

Elia’s lips formed a thin line. She did not care for how Rhaegar had handled the situation with his sister. She agreed with Arya that the girl should have been sent to Dragonstone in a sort of exile, but Rhaegar seemed to want to keep her close for whatever reason. “I am here to speak of Naerys and her betrothals.” 

“I was unaware there was more than one option,” the king said plainly. 

“While you are the king, you are not her father, Jon and Sansa have a right to refuse a betrothment if they do not think it is in Naerys’ best interest. And this marriage that you are suggesting, no matter how far in the future it might be, would not be in Naerys’ best interest.” 

Rhaegar chuckled. “I would have thought you would be happy to see your trueborn grandchild upon the Iron Throne.” 

“At one time I would have, however I do not trust the Tyrells. Their thorns could kill a person if they so wish. They would have gladly dragged the realm into another rebellion if Jon had not married Sansa and you had taken Aegon from the line of succession.”

“I was unaware my youngest son was a concern for you.” 

The comment hurt, for she did care for Jon greatly seeing his constant need to prove himself as evidence that neither of his parents had given him such validation. “The realm concerns me,” she said instead. “You took Aegon from the line of succession and placed Jon there instead. You kept Naerys as Jon’s heir despite her blindness. Was it to make sure that Jaehaerys would be king or do you have different plans?” 

Rhaegar closed his eyes, as though thinking of what to say, but he also seemed to be mulling over her words. “It is how it must be,” he said at last. “I know that there are many who would prefer Aegon on the throne and there are many who would prefer Jon now. However, my sons cannot share the throne, but their children can.” 

Elia pursed her lips. “It does not explain why you wish for a betrothment at this very moment. Both of them are young and Naerys does not seem interested in such things. Surely it would be wiser to betroth her to someone who is not a Targaryen. People would think you were trying to bring back the supposed glory of House Targaryen by marrying the two together, even if they are cousins.”

“Try as you might, Elia,” he said. “But you cannot change my mind. I believe that Naerys and Jaehaerys are a match made by the gods. You claim I am trying to remake my house’s former glory? No, I am trying to bring House Targaryen the glory it always deserved.” 

“Are we to be in disagreement then?” 

“It appears so.” 

Elia pursed her lips again. “I will not stop fighting against this match,” she said. “I do not think it is in anyone’s best interest. Not ours, not theirs, and not our people’s.” 

“If only you knew, Elia. If only you knew.” 

“Then tell me,” she demanded.

Rheagar shook his head. “The time has yet to come where you would even believe me.” 

—

She always had to be careful. 

While many blamed Rhaegar for his own actions, there were plenty who enjoyed placing the blame of the rebellion on her. It was men, usually. Most women had at least some empathy for her situation that they could understand there was nothing she could have done. It did not change the fact that some still laid the blame on her, although just as much blame, the true blame, laid at Rhaegar and Lyanna’s feet. 

She was Dornish and many would always hold that over Elia’s hand as though she did not have the blood of dragonslayers running through her veins. Her people had fought against the dragons and won, gaining more independence than any other kingdom could claim. However, many looked at their personal beliefs and falsehoods in order to judge her where she had no right to be judged. 

They claimed she was not a maid when she married Rhaeger, although he would attest that she was. She could give him no more than two children, but she had given him a healthy heir with Targaryen features. She was a liar, for all Dornish men were, but she had spoken the truth always. She was frail, but she was stronger than most when it came to bearing her treatment with enough grace that none could fault her for it. 

Even so, she always had to be careful, carving out her own happiness outside of her children so that she could stay afloat in the sea of politics and whispering backstabbers of court. She had to be careful or else her children would always be questioned and her enemies, those who would use her favor of Jon and Sansa as a way to oust them as Rhaegar had ousted Aegon, would do everything in their power to bring her down. 

“You are thinking too loudly, my princess,” Arthur’s voice was rough from his brief moment of respite. She looked back at him sprawled across her bed, a sheet draped across his hips as his only modesty, his trousers tossed a few feet from the bed. He stood, exposing himself fully and walking to her where she was looking across the city from her window. 

She had the window turned to stained glass to better hide her activities, but also because her own rooms in Sunspear had been the same. 

Arthur wrapped his arms around her and she could feel his manhood nudge her, but it would take a bit longer for him to regain his ability to please her with that appendage. They had grown old and they could not act like rabbits any longer, not that they had ever been that way with one another, always wary of the eyes that wished to undermine her abilities as the acting queen. Arthur pressed a kiss to her neck, holding her close. “What worries you, my love?”

“A lot of things,” she said, turning in his embrace and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I fear it is my lot in life, to worry.”

Arthur chuckled and pressed kisses to her lips, his hand rubbing circles into the small of her back. “If I could take away your worries, I would, my princess.”

Elia closed her eyes. “We have gotten old, Arthur.” 

“Some of us more than most,” he said. “You still look like the girl I swore my shield to all those years ago.”

Their relationship had been a rocky one. 

Arthur had been one of the knights to go with Rhaegar to the Tower of Joy, but he had only joined after he knew of Lyanna’s pregnancy.  _ I at least had some knowledge of how to take care of a pregnant woman,  _ he had said.  _ The fools did not even think to send for a maester or a midwife. No woman deserves to die when there would be a chance at life.  _ If not for Arthur’s knowledge and insistence, Elia had no doubt that Lyanna would have died on the birthing bed. While Elia had difficult births, she had not bled as much as Lyanna apparently had. It had taken years for Lyanna to gain any sort of mobility after Jon’s birth, always made to sit and having to be carried by others or leaning greatly upon an escort. 

Elia wondered, occasionally, why Rhaegar had taken no precaution towards his favored new wife and had instead gone off to battle. Within their short marriage, the only thing Elia was grateful for, besides her children, was that Rhaegar had been there for both of the births. 

Now, she had Arthur and part of her wished that life had been different for them, that life could have been kinder. 

“I believe you are still quite handsome too,” she said softly, lifting her hand to cup his cheek. 

“You flatter me,” he replied. “But you have distracted me from my initial question. WHat worries you?” 

Elia sighed. “Rhaegar is planning something, preparing for something that he will not share. I believe it is why he has decided to keep Naerys as Jon’s heir, why he is pushing for a betrothal between her and Jaehaerys.”

Arthur frowned. “If my relationship with Rhaegar hadn’t soured, perhaps I would be able to know. But I do not think even Jon Connington knows.” 

Elia looked at Arthur in surprise. “The Hand of the King does not know what he is planning?”

The Dornish knight nodded. “He does not care for Jon and does not think that Naerys, or any of the girls really, should inherit the throne. Whatever Rhaegar’s thoughts are, he has kept them close to his chest. I doubt anyone knows what he is thinking.” 

Elia worried her lip. “I fear that something terrible is coming and only he knows it.” 

“I fear the same, my love,” Arthur said, holding her close. “I feel the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elia always freaking deserves better. 
> 
> Sansa gets a POV next and a baby is going to be born 🥰


	28. Sansa IV

Sansa did not care about the dragon eggs. In fact, she found them rather disconcerting. How could she not? They were strange to look at, the scale like texture was rough against her hand if she rubbed along the shell. Then there was the temperature of them. While Naerys, Jaehaerys, and Daemon all claimed that the eggs felt warm to them, to Sansa, they felt like nothing. Jon likened it to touching stone, but stone was usually cold to the touch. These eggs though… They didn’t feel like anything. They didn’t feel hot or cold or anything in between. It felt as though they were nothing. 

Even so, Naerys kept all three eggs in her room. The black egg was kept in the chest that it had been originally presented in with warm silk and cotton protecting the egg like a cushion. The jade colored egg tended to rest on Naerys’ desk, which she stopped using since she had gone blind. The egg was wrapped in a fur and Sansa could see Naerys occasionally rubbing the egg thoughtfully when she wanted to simply sit down in her room and not lay on her bed. The third egg, the cream colored one, was always in Naerys’ bed. Sansa had come into check on her children in the middle of the night and often found her eldest daughter asleep with her arms wrapped around the egg protectively. 

Jon tried to ease her worries by reminding her that it was simply some old Targaryen tradition that had died out with the last of the dragon eggs, but Sansa could see that it did not soothe him either. What good had dragons done to the Targaryens except for making them hated. For all that people spoke of Aegon I Targaryen bringing the unification of Westeros, he was still called a conqueror. For all the goodness that the first Rhaella supposedly had, she still threatened to burn all that did not submit to her. Would the first Visenya have been as good a fighter if she had no dragon? Although Sansa had never known battle, she doubted that being amongst the soldiers and riding upon a dragon and raining fire down upon them was the same thing.

Perhaps it was because she was Northern that she saw the dragons differently and feared them in a way that anyone of Dornish descent, the Dornish who had successfully kept back the dragons and even killed them, would feel. Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt, had done what he could to protect his people from dragonfire, and Sansa knew she would do the same, although the fire she had initially faced in her marriage had been a metaphorical one. And she was happier for it in her marriage to Jon. 

However, perhaps it was because her husband had a Northern look that she sometimes forgot that he was a dragon true, especially recently. 

Sansa shook her head and continued on her way to the small council of women that Princess Elia had brought together to discuss things the actual Small Council might not initially view as necessary. 

—

_ Dearest Arianne,  _

_ I write to you, and you alone, for I fear that any other correspondence would be viewed with caution by any of those who attempt to usurp the power from House Arryn and sweet Shireen. I know that you will share this letter with your aunt and any who you think might be of help.  _

_ The situation is worse than I initially thought. I fear you might have to call for the Arryn children to come to the Red Keep where they might be safer under the protection of the dragons, loath as I am to say it. The Eyrie is not safe and I sense unrest within the Vale that sends a shiver down my spine.  _

_ I know not who yet, although I have my own suspicions, but someone is inciting violence with the mountain clans. There have been more attacks in the recent years than ever before. While they had always been an issue, I fear that this is something far greater. They have steel now and are unafraid of using it. I find it highly suspicious that these attacks and Lord Arryn’s illness coincide.  _

_ My love, I worry of the unrest that might occur if anything were to happen to House Arryn. _

The letter then changed its tone and urgency, as though someone had come to interrupt Waymar as he had been initially writing. Sansa frowned as she continued to review the letter. 

_ I was just made aware of a situation, I pray it has nothing to do with the current circumstances, but I cannot be certain.  _

_ Harrold Hardyng was just thrown from his horse. I must leave my letter as it is, my beloved. I pray this is merely an accident. I shall send another letter soon of my suspicions.  _

_ Always yours, _

_ W _

“Has any more word come from the Eyrie?” Sansa asked as she set the letter down, looking to Arianne, who sat between Princess Elia and Rhaenys, with Margaery and Doreah on Princess Elia’s other side and Arya sitting next to Sansa. 

Arianne shook her head. “Not unless it has been given to someone on the Small Council and I am loathed to ask Lord Varys,” she said. “The man speaks too often in riddles and there is no time for such things.” 

“Harrold Hardyng falling from his horse may simply be an accident,” Doreah said, chewing on her painted lip in thought. “However, considering everything else that is going on in the Vale, it would be better to be wary.” 

They all nodded. 

“Perhaps you should write to Allyn, Sansa,” Arya said. “If anything, he might be more willing to share things with you that he and the other Valemen might be unwilling to share with Waymar.” She looked to Arianne apologetically. “I know he did not leave the Vale on the best of terms.” 

Sansa sighed. “I suppose.”

“Allyn Baelish?” Margaery asked. 

“Yes, his father was a ward at Riverrun when our mother was a child,” Sansa said. “Allyn was originally his bastard, but he was legitimized quite a few years ago and fostered in Winterfell a long time ago.” 

“Wait,” Arya stopped Sansa before she could continue. “How do you know Allyn? It is not as though he were anyone from a great house, no matter how brilliant he can be.” 

Margaery closed her eyes. “I can recall him being mentioned in a conversation, but I can’t recall who it was or what the subject of the conversation had even been. It must have been years ago. But the name Baelish is so rarely spoken, that I believe it is why I vaguely remember its mention.” 

“Regardless,” Elia said. “We must be wary of what is going on in the Vale. A political upheaval there could easily lead to issues elsewhere.” She looked around at all of them. “Now is the time to be united and to not let petty differences separate us. While the men might think of power and politics, we must think of the small folk that will be crushed beneath the wheel if it turns once more. The memory of Robert’s Rebellion as well as the Greyjoy one are still too fresh in many a man’s memory. We must keep the peace, not just for the sake of our houses, but for the sake of those who depend on us for protection.” 

All the women in the room nodded. “Yes, Princess.” 

Sansa looked over to Margaery who looked to her as well. The two women tilted their head in acknowledgement. Whatever differences they might have at the moment regarding the future marriage partner of their children could wait. If they were not all careful, none of it would matter and the ground they now stood on would slowly begin to crumble.

—

Naerys was sitting in on her lessons with Maester Uther, who was also teaching a few of the other children who would one day lead their houses and families. This gave time for Sansa to focus on her younger two children. 

Celia was nearing five and Sansa could hardly believe it. She was a little lady already, more so than Naerys had been, her eldest daughter always being more quiet than polite. Even so, the two girls were very similar in appearance, but had a more Targaryen nose like her father. Celia was working on her letters, determined to have perfect penmanship, for what purpose, Sansa did not know, but she enjoyed the little notes her daughter would often leave for her to find around the keep. Although, the little girl had gotten into some trouble when she had written a note to the cook demanding raspberry tart. It was a rather adorable demand, but they had to reprimand little Celia a little to make sure she would not use her words to get herself a stomach ache from too many sweets. 

Lydia stayed close to Sansa as she sat on the floor with her daughters, but she still wandered a bit in order to grab a toy. Lydia looked like Alysanne and the thought pulled at Sansa’s heart ever so slightly. However, Lydia was much calmer than her older sister, despite their similar appearance. The youngest of Sansa’s children still babbled constantly. While she could speak clearly when she tried to, her ramblings were rather quick and confusing, her jumping from one thing to another as quickly as she had begun talking about the first. 

“Mama,” Celia said, crawling over to her.    
“You need to walk, my darling,” Sansa said, opening her arms and letting the girl crawl over and sit on her lap. 

“Okay.” 

“Now, what do you have here?”

“That’s me,” Celia said, pointing to her name written in wax sticks that Maester Uther had made for the children. 

“Very good,” Sansa said, kissing her daughter’s cheek. 

“That Rys.” 

Sansa chuckled when she saw that Celia had only written  _ Rys  _ and not Naerys full name. “Yes, that is Naerys.” 

“Mama?” 

“Yes, my darling?” 

“Did Alys ever have hair like me?” 

Sansa frowned. “No, sweetling. Alys looked like your father and Lydia.” 

“Oh.” Celia narrowed her eyes in concentration as she seemed to be trying to piece things together. 

“Why do you ask, Celia?” 

The little girl shook her head and crawled out of Sansa’s lap to continue to write or color while Lydia came to her with a new toy.

—

Sansa awoke to a slight knock to the door and Jon groaned next to her as Sansa slid from their bed and went to the door. Podrick stood holding Naerys in his arms. “I left Ser Renly with the other children,” he said. “She wanted to be with you.” 

“Thank you, Podrick,” Sansa said with a yawn, taking her daughter in her arms. 

She closed the door and set Naerys on the bed. Her daughter crawled over her father, seeming to knee him in the stomach as she went. Jon grunted on the impact but shifted onto his side so that he could pull their eldest daughter into his arms. 

“What is it, sweetling?” Jon asked, his eyes still closed as Sansa slid into the bed next to Naerys. 

“The trees were singing,” she told them. “Uncle Bran said to come sleep with you if they sang again.” 

“That’s nice,” Jon said. 

Sansa wasn’t quite sure what her daughter meant by the trees singing, but she could not ask as Naerys’ breaths evened out rather quickly and Sansa fell asleep soon after, letting herself sink back down into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa does NOT like the dragon eggs.
> 
> More news from the Vale and Margaery and Sansa decide to put aside their different opinions about very important things because they need to focus on this for the moment. It’s not the best truce, but it’s a truce nonetheless.
> 
> I wander what Celia’s comment could mean 🤔
> 
> And I wonder who Naerys is heading from the trees 🤭
> 
> I also recently had a fic being stolen. It’s been taken down now, but that was rough. It was one of my Celiaverse fics and it’s so hard to want to finish writing it (because I’m almost done). It feels violating. The person translated it into Spanish on Wattpad and then changed Celia’s name to something else. I’m not fluent in Spanish, but I could read enough that the first chapter was the exact same with the same conversation being had as well. Being plagiarized sucks.  
> I’m fine if someone ever wanted to translate my work into another language for their own convenience or for the convenience of others, but asking and giving me credit would have been nice. And, again, before you start looking, it HAS been taken down already.


	29. Daenerys III

Soon the Dornish party would be leaving the Red Keep, but it did not stop the youngest Dornish prince from spending his time with Naerys. The two were almost inseparable, Jaehaerys always inserting himself between them, as was his right. Daenerys thought very little of Arianne Martell and her brood. Some part of her felt jealousy for all that Arianne had in her role as her father’s heir and her future power, but she felt little else for the woman, much less her son who seemed determined to spark a friendship between himself and Jon’s daughter. 

The three children were speaking, although Daenerys was not close enough to hear any of it. Ser Renly Baratheon stood near the children, looking after him. Although he was Jon’s sworn shield, she wondered if he would soon switch his allegiances to Naerys since the girl treasured him so. However, with his presence, she could not draw nearer to the children than she already was. The only reason she had been allowed so close anyway was because she had been the one in the garden first. 

The children had the three dragon eggs in their laps. Naerys was draped slightly over hers, almost like a mother hen with her own. Jaehaerys had his own egg in his lap, prominent and larger than the other two eggs. The Dornish boy had his egg beside him, not keeping it on his lap like the others. 

From what Daenerys had read of dragon eggs, the color of the shells indicated what the coloring of the supposed dragon might be. It made her think that the egg that Jaehaerys seemed to claim for himself when they were outside Naerys’ rooms was an egg that might hatch a dragon colored like Balerion. It would be like Aegon the Conqueror reborn. She felt a twinge of pride at the thought of it, even though the boy occasionally glared at her whenever she was near Jon’s eldest daughter. Even in that, though, she felt some assurity. The Targaryen line would live on through those two. Viserys’ children would be of no use, not being raised in the way of Old Valyria and being far too wild. Even though Jon’s daughter held little to no Valyrian features, she had dragon’s blood running through her veins and any child she might have with Jaehaerys would bring about a Targaryen revival that had been lost when she had not been born soon enough. 

However, Daenerys, for the life of her, could not understand why her eldest brother gave a blind girl eggs. True, she was a Targaryen and Jon’s heir, but she was blind. Why gift all three eggs to her instead of dividing them between the eldest children of his children? Why not give one to Naerys, one to Jaehaerys, and one to little Elia? Why give her all three. Perhaps it was a way to show that Rhaegar favored the girl, seeing promise in her still despite her disability, but Daenerys felt there was more to it than that. But she had seen the look the girl had when she had been presented with the black egg. She had looked pale and had looked near tears. She had not wanted that particular egg and, for the life of her, Daenerys didn’t know why. 

Then there was the fact that the Dornish boy, Daemon, had taken ownership of one of the eggs as well, or at least appeared to gravitate towards it. Daenerys found it insulting. The Dornish had been the reason for the death of the first dragon in Westeros, they had dared to be as great as the Targaryens, retaining their sense of grandeur in their royal titles. The only Dornish people that deserved anything were Princess Elia for birthing a Targaryen-looking son and Rhaenys. Her niece might wear Dornish clothes and prefer Sunspear to the Red Keep, but her temper was completely Targaryen. Thus, she and her daughter, even if she were a bastard, were the only ones who should have been allowed to touch the dragon eggs and feel something. Yet, there the boy was, holding an egg as though it were his right. 

Daenerys stood and saw Ser Renly straighten at her sudden movement. She ignored him and made her way back into the keep. She felt bitter, more than she could possibly explain, even to herself, for, when she had tried to touch the eggs, they had been cold to the touch. 

—

Daenerys opened the letter from Cersei Martell. The woman had begun to write to her the second she had learned that her precious granddaughter would be fostered in the Red Keep. Daenerys had met Joanna and found the girl to be more snake than lion, despite her appearance. The girl looked more Lannister than Martell, but it made her appear almost Valyrian at times when the sun hit her hair just right. Even so, the girl’s grandmother was a Lannister and a Lannister could not be trusted. The fools that they were had likened themselves to Targaryens in their power, betraying her father as though it were the noble thing. No, they had done nothing but seek their own personal gain. Even the current Lannister lord was a nuisance. Lord Tyrion was the sort of man to drink his sorrows away and she found so very little care for him whenever he managed to bring himself to the Red Keep. The man thought himself so wise, but in truth he did nothing but seek the approval of those above him, ever so careful to not upset the balance or else he would bring down the destruction of his house as his brother and father almost did. 

But regardless, Daenerys turned her focus upon the letter. 

_ Princess Daenerys,  _

_ I thank you for the reply to my last letter and can see from your penmanship alone that you are a woman of learning and cunning that many of the insipid women of court might find threatening. I have no doubt that Ned Stark’s daughter is the same. The man was always so traditional and so unyielding in the possibility of change that I have no doubt his daughter is the same. They believe they are the only ones in the world who are right on everything and I have no doubt they view you as a threat because you do not align with their views.  _

It was pure flattery, but Daenerys allowed for it. The Lannister woman sought powerful allies to bring glory back to House Lannister. Daenerys could care less about the lions, but one must find allies even with those you would not wish to share the same air with. 

_ As you know, my granddaughter is to be fostered in the Red Keep and I hoped that, perhaps, you might find time to take her under your wing. She is a sweet girl, but I fear that my husband and my son have allowed her to be far too soft. I ask that you teach her the ways of the Targaryens so that she might be stronger. I believe that she would also make an excellent match for your great-nephew, Prince Jaehaerys. While there are rumors that your brother, the king, wishes to have him married to Princess Naerys, I believe we can both agree that such a girl should never sit upon the throne. Let a woman rule in her own right, but not her. She would be an insult to our sex and be so dependant on all those around her that I very much doubt that she would be able to accomplish anything.  _

_ Joanna would be a great ally in, perhaps, persuading King Rhaegar to bring the crown back to its true heir. After all, would it not be best for a Targaryen prince and a Martell princess to right the wrongs of the rebellion and your eldest nephew’s loss of his crown?  _

_ Think on it, dear friend, for I believe that such a thing would do wonders in pushing away the Stark influence upon the court.  _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Cersei _

Daenerys thought on it. It would, perhaps, work alongside her other plans as, in that, it might distract everyone from her own.

—

_ Dear Princess,  _

_ Although I had been only vaguely aware of Lady Shireen’s correspondence with Dorne, I feel that I must reassure you that there is no need to worry about our plans. Robert Arryn has always been a weak boy. I am surprised that he had been able to go on for so long with his health as it is. Lady Shireen is a clever young woman though, and I shall keep a close eye on her as well as Ser Waymar. The man holds little affection or trust in me, but I shall endeavor to be his ally as the politics of the Eyrie have been greatly changed since he has last been here. Jon Arryn is gone and my father and stepmother retain much of their power, more so now that the young Arryn lord’s health is declining and his own heir is so very young.  _

_ I will say that many of the Valemen are quite put out that Prince Jon has not come himself. He left so quickly that many wonder why he has not returned yet. While all know of the death of his second eldest daughter, his duties at the Vale were not yet finished and I fear that, while many of the lords still look at the man fondly, some of the lesser ones have begun to grumble. Even so, I wish that you had not kept dear Sansa’s letters from him. She deserved to have someone by her side in such a trying time, but I think, in the long run, such a thing was for the better.  _

_ You worry that their relationship has grown stronger and I beg to differ. The Sansa I knew and grew up with was a woman who held wrongs closely to her chest, despite her diplomatic nature. She no doubt still holds a grudge and Prince Jon need only make one more mistake and she, and the rest of House Stark will turn their back on him. And who else would he turn to but you, princess?  _

_ I have no doubt that Sansa will soon write to me to ask after the situation in the Vale, but I will be sending a letter to her a few days after I have sent this one so that our letters might just miss one another.  _

_ She trusts me, your grace, and I have no doubt we can reach our goals amicably once the things in the Vale are properly sorted. Even so, I would be wary of the Dornish. They so like sticking their noses where they don’t belong. I have already heard rumors that Princess Arianne wishes to betroth her youngest son to Princess Naerys. Such a betrothal cannot take place, especially not before our plans have been realized. Such a contract would allow House Stark to still have a foothold within court and your Prince Jon would be unable to let his wife go so easily. Continue to push for a betrothal between Prince Jaehaerys and the crown princess. Such a thing would insight discord between the family that could only be mended by your own marriage to the crown prince.  _

_ Your loyal servant,  _

_ Allyn Baelish _

Daenerys read over the letter and placed it in the fire once she memorized the content. Her plans were going smoothly. Although she was loathed to work with the once bastard, she found that he was an easy piece to manipulate. His idiodic love for Sansa Stark made him weak. He cared for nothing but his ultimate goal of gaining her hand in marriage. However, he would not get what he wanted. Not all of it, anyway. Once the chaos of the Vale begins to spread, Jon would have no choice but to leave the Red Keep, leaving his wife and daughters vulnerable once more. 

And it would be then that Daenerys would strike. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Not Dany. You didn’t think we’d not see her again did you? She’s making her judgments on who deserves dragons and who does not. What do you think of those thoughts?
> 
> And Cersei trying to make a play for power. It won’t really work. Just know that Cersei won’t be too much of a major player in this, but she will be one, especially in the next part of the series. 
> 
> And Dany and Allyn are working together. Was anyone surprised by this?
> 
> I’m debating on Allyn getting a POV next or just going to Waymar again.


	30. Allyn I

When Allyn was a boy, Lord Baelish had him sent away from the Eyrie to live with the Starks in Winterfell. He hadn’t wanted to go. He had wanted to stay in the Vale with Lady Arryn, who had treated him with such kindness and gentleness, something Allyn had never felt before. 

As Allyn headed North, the world about him turned grey. The sky became overcast and the air became colder, his lungs stinging like they did whenever Lord Baelish gave him a mint leaf to chew on. It was ugly in comparison to the Eyrie’s beautiful blues and whites. It was ugly in compared to the brothel of the Fingers where his mother had once lived, the vibrant colors and perfumes…

He hated that he was being sent away. He wished that he had been allowed to stay in the Fingers and live with the whores that had taken care of him after his mother had fallen sick. He hated Lord Baelish and he hated Lord and Lady Stark for taking him as their ward. Why couldn’t he have stayed in the Eyrie? Lady Arryn had treated him so kindly, kissing his cheek and calling him her sweet boy as though she had been the one to birth him. Lord Arryn had stroked his hair kindly and called him a smart lad with a bright future ahead of him. 

He wanted to go home. 

Allyn reached Winterfell with little fanfare and little enthusiasm on his part. He stepped out of the carriage, which was small and cramped, but Allyn wasn’t good at riding horses, a donkey, sure, but not a horse. He was helped down by one of Lord Baelish’s men and greeted by Lord Stark and his family. However, Allyn’s eyes went to the eldest daughter first. 

She was beautiful, with hair the color of autumn leaves. She wore a dress of sky blue and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. 

_I loved a maid as red as autumn_

_with sunset in her hair._

Allyn had never put much faith in songs. They were mere entertainment, but this girl that stood before him. She was like a mad from a song, that song in particular, but a maiden from a song nonetheless. 

His attention was pulled from her when Lord Stark walked forward to welcome Allyn to Winterfell and introduce him to the rest of his family. Lady Stark was Lady Arryn’s older sister and he could see similar features, although Lady Stark was much slimmer. Allyn wondered if she was eating enough. There was Robb, the eldest son, and Lord Stark’s other ward, Theon Greyjoy. Then there was Arya, Bran, and Rickon. 

Sansa. 

That was her name, the girl who looked like autumn, who looked like a fairy. 

Sansa had been the one to take responsibility for him, it seems, especially when it became apparent that he didn’t enjoy sparring or riding as Robb and Theon did. Allyn and Sansa read books together, wrote poetry and practiced music together. They played cyvasse. He could still hear Lord Baelish’s voice in his ear whenever he was around Sansa, slowly being drawn to her like a moth to a flame. 

_Girls like that are so very easy to love. They belong to us, even if they don’t know it yet._

—

_Lord Allyn,_

_I believe you are not taking the caution you should be. Lady Shireen reaching out to Dorne easily means she could have reached out to her father in the Stormlands. There is no care between the Baratheon’s and House Targaryen, I advise you to act wisely, else our plans will be ruined. Endear yourself to Lady Shireen and show yourself to be a truer ally than a man who would abandon his people and house for Dorne and the Martells. Show that Ser Waymar isn’t to be trusted._

Allyn snorted at the fallen Targaryen princess’ gall to give him advice on how to approach a situation. Her dislike and distrust of the Dornish was obvious when, in truth, they would be utterly necessary for the change of times. Dorne was the house most closely linked to House Targaryen, by blood and by politics. Ser Waymar was married to the heir of Sunspear and, although not the one with ultimate authority, still held a lot of power, especially with the push to have their youngest son betrothed to Princess Naerys. 

_And what do you suggest I do to separate the two of them? I have been blocked from interfering and hold little sway over Jon now that he is angry with me. You claim to be so clever and have placed the blame solely on me when it comes to keeping her letters from Jon, but it was men that you had suggested for me to have placed around Jon whenever he traveled. You claim that your precious Sansa holds wrongs close to her chest, then I doubt she would care to listen to anything I say._

_And what if she gives him a son?_

Allyn rolled his eyes. She had either decided to ignore his insistence that the Vale was turning their favor against Prince Jon or she didn’t care to dwell on it. He had hoped that such thoughts would stick, no matter how untrue they were. Allyn supposed he would have to go another route with the princess. However, the thought of Sansa having a son with the Targaren prince displeased him. If such a thing were to happen…

No, sending cloth to the eldest princesses that had been touched by a child with dragon fever could only be done once. He doubted he could manage something again. Someone would notice that the two times he had sent fabric to the crown prince’s children had thrown chaos upon their healths. There might even be someone who held those suspicions now. Allyn would have to find some other way to make sure that Sansa didn’t bear Prince Jon a male heir. He would have to consult with the whores again. They had claimed once that it was possible to make sure that a child would only be a girl. Boys threatened their fathers’ true heirs, girls could make them more money. 

_Tell me of the content of Sansa’s letter when you receive word from her. I must know it._

_Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen_

Allyn snorted. Who was she to boss him around. He sighed. She was a necessary piece to the long game he was playing. First he would have Sansa, and then… he would have the crown, even if he had to use her blind brat to wear it for him. 

—

“Men of honor will do things for their children that they would never consider doing for themselves,” Lord Baelish said, leaning against his desk as Allyn stood before him. “I had not thought Robing to be so honorable, but I suppose Stannis’ daughter has rubbed off on him.” 

Allyn had not been the one to give poison to the young Arryn lord. He would not dirty his hands so directly. 

Lord Baelish looked at him, both knew they were playing a game and did not know what exactly was in the other’s hand. However, Allyn could only guess that Lord Baelish’s goal was to sit upon the Iron Throne, sit amongst the ashes of those he would have to destroy to get there. He was much like Princess Daenserys in that way. She cared not who she had to destroy to get there. Allyn was a little like that as well, however, he always made sure that nothing could be traced back to him and not to underestimate his opponent. Lord Baelish and the Princess Daenserys both underestimated him to a degree. 

“Tell me, boy,” the lord said. “What are your thoughts on the Iron Throne?” 

“A throne made of a thousand blades taken from the hands of Aegon’s fallen enemies, forged in the fiery breath of Balerion the Dread,” he had read it in a book somewhere long ago with Sansa pressed against his side as they looked at the picture of the great throne. 

“There isn’t even two hundred,” Lord Baelish said. “I counted them.” 

“Of course,” Allyn said. “I doubt that there were so many swords that Aegon the Conqueror collected. I doubt there were so many great houses to take such swords from. It is truly ugly from what I have heard, and uncomfortable too. Wasn’t there a Targaryen king who had been pierced by the blades. Surely someone would have thought to switch out such a chair long ago. It’s highly impractical.”

“It appears that you have begun to endear yourself to Ser Waymar,” Lord Baelish said. 

“We both know the Targaryens cannot last much longer,” Allyn said. “For the good of the realm, their line must end.” 

“The realm,” the lord sneered. “Do you know what the realm is? It’s the thousand blades of King Aegon’s enemies. A story history has agreed to tell over and over until we forget the lie, forget that he was nothing but a foreign conqueror.”

“And once the lie is abandoned?” Allyn asked. “Are we to allow ourselves to be swallowed by the pit of your making?” 

“Chaos isn’t a pit,” Lord Baelish said. “Chaos is a ladder. Many try to climb and fail, to never try again. Some fall and let it break them. Some are given the chance to climb, but choose not to. Others cling to the realm, or the gods, or love. All simple illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is.” 

“And those you step on to get where you wish to be?” 

“Worthy sacrifices.” 

“And tell me,” Allyn said. “How long do you intend for people to think that I am your son? Surely I am no longer of any use to you. Lady Lysa believes me the child born of your heartbreak over the one she was forced to lose.” 

“You are too valuable a piece to let go of quite yet, Allyn,” Lord Baelish said. “Besides, you only stay by my side because you worry what I would do to your precious Sansa. She is much like her mother, after all.” 

Allyn’s blood boiled, but he remained calm. He would not let his man get a rise out of him. He would wait for his time to strike and enjoy the look on the man’s face as he realized that he was never a true player. He was only ever a piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh. 🤢 I hated writing him.
> 
> And I’m pretty sure Allyn just went to the freaking top of everyone’s hate list for what he did to Naerys and Alysanne. 
> 
> And the game is being played 😱
> 
> JesseMo on here, but dopefanficwriter on tumblr drew the most beautiful bit of fanart for this fic! 😍😍😍 Find it [here](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/624646390064250880/fromtheboundlesssea-dopefanficwriter-my) with my comments on the piece!


	31. Jaehaerys III

Naerys had her head tilted to the side, as she sometimes did when she was listening to something, however, Jaehaerys heard nothing. Maybe it was a bell? He couldn’t always hear them, some of the notes were too high or low for him to hear. Naerys’ eyes narrowed as she listened to whatever it was. Even though she couldn’t see anymore, her eyes were as expressive as they had always been. 

“Naerys?” Her arm around his own tightened as Seasmoke began to bark, running around them, trying to get their attention. “Naerys, are you okay?” 

“Do you hear it?” she asked. 

Jaehaerys blinked. “Hear what?” 

“The singing,” she said. “Can’t you hear it?” Naerys pressed her ear against his shoulder and pressed her free hand against the other. She looked frightened. 

Jaehaerys’ lips formed a tight line as he looked about them. All the adults were in their council meetings. Ser Renly was on his day off so he might be in his rooms, but he might not be. Ser Podrick was looking after Cedric, since the little boy had eaten too many sweets the previous day. It was Jaehaerys’ job to take care of Celia. She was his cousin and his future wife, after all. 

“Come on,” he said, pulling her along carefully so as not to trip her. Seasmoke continued to bark, nipping at their feet. Jaehaerys led her into one of the many rooms of the Red Keep and sat Naerys down. He took her hand in his as her other covered her ear. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Naerys said quietly, her voice trembling as she spoke. “I keep hearing it.” She was panicking, Jaehaerys could see it. It was like the time Alysanne had spilled her drink on Naerys’ dress by accident just as they were to be presented to the court. When they were five and six. “It stops sometimes, but then it just comes back.”

Her eyes began to glisten with unshed tears and Jaehaerys’ chest tightened. He let go of her hand and covered her ears with his hands and held her face gently. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’ll stop the song. Just stay by me and squeeze my hand when the song comes and I’ll protect you, I promise.” 

“It won’t stop,” Naerys said, tears sliding down her cheeks, too heavy to stick to her lashes. “It won’t stop. It won’t stop.” She closed her eyes as though it would help her drown out whatever it was that she was hearing. “Make it stop. I don’t want to get sick. The song took Alys away. I want it to stop! I don’t want it to take me away!” 

Jaehaerys pulled her face to his and placed a kiss upon her lips. 

He had seen his father do it a couple times with his mother after she visited the roses, because seeing them, for some reason, made her sad. A kiss always calmed his mother down and he hoped that it would do the same for Naerys. 

Her lips were soft like flower petals, like roses. She tensed against the kiss for only a moment before she eased against him, her body becoming lax as he slowly pulled away from her. Jaehaerys watched as her cheeks began to glow a soft pink and her tears began to still and her eyes began to flutter until they were open. He loved her eyes. He always had. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a little strained as he felt his heart pounding in his ears. 

“It stopped,” she said softly in reply. Naerys leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him tightly. “It stopped.” 

Jaehaerys held her close. “I told you I would protect you. You’re my person, Rys,” he said. “I won’t let anything take you away. I promise.” 

—

“The old gods are nameless,” Lord Bran Stark said, sitting before the children as they looked up at him with wide eyes. 

Joanna had wanted to hear about the Northern gods, having only read about them in books with the maester at Sunspear wasn’t knowledgeable about them. Jaehaerys had been a little curious as well. Aunt Sansa and Aunt Arya, even Queen Lyanna, worshiped the old gods, although they prayed to the Seven as well. He remembers joining his red-haired aunt once into the godswood of the Red Keep. The air had felt almost stale, but there was something beneath it, something sacred like within the Sept. 

“The old gods are nameless and numerous,” Lord Bran continued. “Some believe that the gods are everywhere—in the rocks, streams, birds, and beasts—and, once we die, we are brought to the trees, nourishing them and continuing the cycle of life and death.” 

“And the weirwoods?” Joanna asked, her eyes wide and bright with curiosity. 

“Maesters say that the weirwoods are sacred to the old gods, but, in truth, they are what the old gods watch us through. The old gods watch us as we live our lives. It is why they do not touch the south. They are blind here, their eyes have been closed for a long time.” Lord Bran glanced at Naerys who was holding onto Jaehaerys’ arm as he spoke, Seasmoke asleep in her lap. “The sigh of the wind and the rustle of leaves is a sign that the old gods are speaking to you. My good brother, Jojen Reed, says that the singers of the children of the forest believe that weirwood trees are the gods, and that when they die, they become part of the godhood.”  
“The children of the forest?” Prince Daemon asked. “What’s that?” 

“They were the beings who originally inhabited Westeros before the First Men came thousands of years ago. They call themselves _those who sing the song of the earth_ , but they speak in the True Tongue, a language as old as the world itself.” 

They sounded impossible in Jaehaerys’ mind. He didn’t think creatures like that existed. It was probably a fairy story like the ones his mother told him when he was a child. Surely, if something as mysterious as that had existed, they would still be around. 

“Some believe that the children were the ones to carve the faces into the weirwoods and that they help the gods see us. It is why a person can and should never lie before the heart tree in the godswood. The old gods will know. It is why marriages are performed in the godswood in the North. Oaths and pledges made before the old gods are sacred and must always be kept. But when the Andals came, they cut down all the weirwood they could find, even if a face was carved into it.” He shook his head sadly. “Thus, there was no god to watch over the lands and soon, the godswoods began to decay. Some of us practitioners of the old way believe that the voices of the children are still around here, but they have no mouth or eyes to speak and see.”

A chill ran up Jaehaerys’ spine and Naerys squeezed his arm tightly. 

—

Jaehaerys stood amongst the yellowing stones of the Red Keep’s godswood. The great oak tree that served as the heart of the sacred wood was wilting, covered in smokeberry vines. The eyes of the carved face were closed and the sap bled from the eyes like golden tears. The leaves drooped, brushing against the ground like shadowed fingers. 

A roar echoed across the sky as an unearthly scream followed as shadows began to swirl about the night air, blocking the moonless sky and the widespread stars. But it was not dark, no, the world about him was on fire, the flames licking at his skin and the bark of the trees and their leaves. 

Seven cold stars shown above him with a red star crashing to the earth as blood began to seep from the roots of the tree, which began to shift and groan as the branches and roots slowly began to turn into limbs until a pale girl kneeled before him, her white dress bloodied and her red hair a mess as though it had been pulled. She looked so lost and alone. 

She looked almost like Aunt Sansa, but Jaehaerys knew that wasn’t her. He didn’t know this person, yet, at the same time… he did. 

She was saying something, crying for someone, but he couldn’t hear her voice, just her lips as they formed words, but he could see the strain in her body as she cried for someone. And that was when he saw her belly swollen. Jaehaerys reached out to help her, his hands too small to do anything, but he had to help her, had to comfort her, had to claim her. 

_Yours_ , a voice like his grandfather’s hissed as a shadow came upon his back. He turned and his eyes widened at the sight of the black dragon before him. The beast before him was large and covered the sky with its wings. _Yours. And she will be no one else's._

A cry came from the woman and Jaehaerys turned, suddenly taller than he had been before. Gloved hands, his hands, were wrapped around the woman’s throat as she clawed at them. 

“Stop!” Jaehaerys shouted. “Stop it! Don’t hurt her! Don’t hurt her!” 

It was as though his body was not his own, someone was hurting her, someone was trying to kill her. 

“She’s mine!” he roared. “You can’t touch her! She’s mine!”

Suddenly he felt as though he were falling, falling, the world rushing about him until he awoke with a gasp. 

He was drenched in sweat, he scrambled off his bed and retched into his chamberpot. When he was done, his body heavy, he went to his water basin and splashed water upon his face. He took a towel and wiped his body clean of the sweat. 

Jaehaerys wandered to his door and opened it. 

“Are you alright, little dragon?” Uncle Loras asked. 

Jaehaerys nodded, suddenly feeling childish. But, at the same time, he was a child, so what did it matter? “It’s nothing,” he said. “Sorry, just a weird dream.” He paused. “Do… Do you think you could send someone to check on Naerys?” 

His uncle smirked. “Worried about your little princess?” 

Jaehaerys blushed, his dream melting away the longer he stayed awake. “Shut up.” 

Uncle Loras threw back his head and laughed. 

—

Naerys was spending more time with Prince Daemon again, giggling at things he said and speaking to him animatedly as Seasmoke sat in the prince’s lap. It made Jaehaerys’ stomach churn with envy. 

She was going to marry _him_ one day. They were like Grandfather and Queen Lyanna. He heard some rumors, whispers between his parents that some people hoped and planned to betrothe Naerys to Prince Daemon and it made Jaehaerys upset. Naerys was _his._ She had been ever since they were babies. 

“Prince Daemon,” he announced as they and the other boys were in the training yard. “I challenge you to a spar.” 

The Dornish prince looked at him, his dark eyes curious. The boy was two years older than Jaehaerys and taller, but Jaehaerys felt like he could beat the prince if he really tried. If he beat the prince, then he would prove to anyone who was trying to betrothe him to Naerys that Jaehaerys was the better choice as a husband and king. If he beat Daemon, then maybe Naerys would let him kiss her again. 

Prince Daemon shrugged. “I guess,” he said. 

The two stood up to spar. Their fathers weren’t present and Ser Podrick was the one watching over their practice. Ser Podrick was good at staying neutral and Jaehaerys knew that, when he declared him as the winner, Ser Podrick would mean it. 

“Begin!” 

It wasn’t a long fight. It barely felt like a minute and a half before Jaehaerys was thrown onto his back, the tip of Prince Daemon’s wooden sword gently against his chest. 

“Prince Daemon wins,” Ser Podrick announced as though it weren’t obvious. The Dornish prince helped pull Jaehaerys up without prompting and brushed the dust off his back.   
“Geeze, Daemon,” Prince Olyvar said. “You could have taken it easy on him.” 

“He was being sincere,” Prince Daemon replied. “He deserved for me to be so as well.” 

Jaehaerys’ cheeks were inflamed with embarrassment, but he also felt something dark and sticky in the pit of his stomach, like the shadow of the dragon from his dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It slipped my notice until I was publishing this chapter, but we went from Dany, Allyn, to Jaehaerys, all characters that have a certain connection to the Jonsa family. Lol
> 
> And Naerys’ first kiss was Jaehaerys! I bet NONE of you were expecting that!
> 
> And the talk of the old gods and the weirwood! I wonder who could be singing? 🧐
> 
> And Jae’s dream! 😱
> 
> And then the spar!!!!
> 
> Viserys is getting a chapter next and we’re going to have a baby!


	32. Viserys II

_ This will be fun. _

He’d known Rhaenys for all her life. Viserys should have known to never ever take her advise. He should have just done something normal and more in his comfort zone instead of listening to his niece when it came to romance advice. He should have listened to Sansa or, seven hells, even Margaery.

However, he was too far up to even think about climbing back down, much less  _ looking _ down.

After what seemed like forever, he managed to hoist himself up into Arya’s balcony. Once he climbed over, he laid there on his back for a moment, trying to contemplate his life’s choices.

“You okay, old man?” Arya’s voice came from the room and he looked over to see her dressed in only her shift and Viserys was fairly certain he was red with embarrassment more than exhaustion now.

Viserys pulled the slightly squashed winter rose from his breast pocket and held it up for her. “I was trying to woo you,” he admitted. “Didn’t really think it through.”

“Obviously,” she smiled, pressing the rose to her nose. Arya then walked to him and laid down on the balcony next to him, curling into him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Next time, why don’t we go for something a little less dangerous.”

“Agreed.”

—

Viserys paced just outside his chamber door as he listened to his wife crying out with every contraction. It didn’t matter that this was the third time he had experienced it. It still caused him to worry with every brief moment of silence until another cry came and he could breathe. Sansa and Meera were both inside, helping attend to their sister as she worked through another contraction. 

The children were playing in the nursery, Viserys had requested this, not wishing for them to hear their mother’s pain. Instead, Lady Jeyne and Arianne had taken to look after them as Rhaenys sat next to Jon, the two of them praying quietly as Arya continued to push through. 

Viserys knew for a fact that he looked frazzled, half-crazed even. Arya’s water had broken in the middle of the night and he had panicked, just as he had for the other two births. This one was taking longer, but Maester Uther assured him it was because the babe was a little late. If Viserys was a brave man, he would push into the room and be by his wife’s side. Nothing was stopping him, save for his wife’s order to stay out.

His worry did nothing but cause his wife worry and concern and she needed to focus on the brith. And, Viserys coddled, a lot. And Arya also got to a point of screaming profanities, usually aimed at her husband. 

“You are never allowed to touch me again, you stupid old man!” 

“You did this, Viserys!” 

“Next time, you’ll be the one screaming?”

“Are her births usually this hard?” Rhaenys asked.

“No,” Jon answered. “The fact that she's shouting words means that she’s probably near the end.”

Even so, Viserys couldn’t help but worry. He always worried. 

“She’s going to be fine, Viserys,” Jon said. 

“I know,” he muttered back. 

A baby’s cry rang through the room and Biserys was through the door even before it was finished. Sansa and Meera let him through with a smile as they left the room to give him and Arya some privacy. 

Arya was exhausted and slightly red, and glowed ever so slightly from the sweat. But, she held a little babe in her arms. 

“Meet your daughter,” she said softly. 

She was beautiful, with dark hair like her mother and grey eyes too. A Stark through and through.

“I already talked it over with Sansa,” his wife said gently. “She and Jon both say it's okay. They said they would be honored to see her grow with that name.” 

Viserys smiled and knelt next to his wife and kissed his daughter’s head. 

“Hello, Alys.” 

—

That night, Alys slept with Arya and Viserys. 

Viserys was on his stomach, his head resting against the pillow as he looked up at his wife and new daughter. Arya was breastfeeding. For the life of him, Viserys could not recall his mother ever breastfeeding and could not recall if Elia had either. It was magical, almost, the way women could provide for their children. Magic. 

Arya was humming an Essosi song they had learned from their last voyage and Viserys smiled softly to them as she did so.

The moonlight flooded into the room in just the right way to illuminate his wife and daughter as though Arya were the Mother herself, although Viserys knew she much preferred the Warrior or her father’s gods. 

Viserys reached up and stroked his daughter’s soft brown hair. He heard a pop and knew that she was done feeding, choosing instead to nuzzle further into her mother’s breast. He sat up to hold them both. 

When he was younger, Viserys had never thought that he would get the chance to be a father. He hadn’t thought he would be a husband either. But Arya was rather good at breaking down walls, especially his own. Her attitude and her humor had caught Viserys off guard. He had liked her, even though she had been much younger than himself. When she had made her feelings known—of course Arya had been the one to first confess their feelings—Viserys had tried to pull away, insisting that she deserved someone better. Arya has promptly punched him in the shoulder and told him her heart belonged to him now so it was his job to take care of it. And take care of it he had. 

When Arya ahad first gotten pregnant with Brandon, so very soon after they had gotten married, Viserys had been worried. What if he became like his father? His brother? He was a Targaryen after all, more so than Aegon and Jon were. Fire and Blood was his way. What if he hurt her? What if he destroyed the only light in his life?

But then he had felt Brandon kick for the first time…

Arya had been there to pick up the shattered pieces as he broke down crying, promising to protect them and vowing to never hurt them. 

“She’s beautiful,” Viserys whispered, looking down at their daughter. “She takes after you.” 

“She has your nose though,” Arya said, resting her body against his. “And she’s quiet, like you.” 

Viserys smiled.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I could hear you overthinking.” 

He nodded and wrapped his arms around them just a little tighter. “You make everything better my love.” He kissed the top of her head. “I will always be okay as long as I have you.” 

—

“Hello, Mother.” 

The statue was in her exact likeness. It was the one thing his brother had done that Viserys was grateful for. His children could see what their grandmother looked like. The statue was made of marble, unlike the other statues within the crypt. Alysanne’s was made out of weirwood bark imported from the Eyrie. 

Brandon was on his toes, putting daisies at his grandmother’s feet. Jenny was looking up at the statue in awe, her thumb on her lip, having just taken it out of her mouth. She was clinging to Viserys’ cloak. 

“This is Alys,” he said. “Your granddaughter. She’s named after Alysanne, but I hope that she becomes like you. Rhaegar doesn’t remember, but I do. You were a strong woman, Mother, and I want my girls to have your inner strength and for Brandon to never treat a woman as Father treated you.” 

He bowed his head respectively. 

“I vow that I will take care of this family,” he said. “I will not let Father’s shadow be our legacy, your legacy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viserys attempting to woo Arya in their youth is hilarious to me 🤣
> 
> And Viserys is Father of the Year.
> 
> And Rhaella deserved to meet her grandchildren from Viserys! 😭


	33. Naerys IV

She saw the boy again. 

_ Aemon _ . She thought that was his name, thought that was what she heard his mother call him. He reminded her a bit of her father in appearance, but his hair was longer and straighter. And his eyes were a slightly paler grey, with flecks of blue that became more noticeable in the sunlight. 

Sometimes she would be with him as he slept, alongside the white puppy. He was warm and Naerys felt safe wrapped in his arms alongside the slightly older wolf pup. 

Now, however, she was following him as he was practicing his hunting skills. 

He was good, from what Naerys could tell, although she had paid very little attention to the skill in King’s Landing, but hunting in the ice and snow seemed to be more about actually feeding people rather than for sport. Naerys tried to help as the white pup did, but she had tasted blood once and had hated it. The tang reminded her too much of the fever, the metallic smell that reminded her of Maester Uther’s medicine. Of Alys suddenly being gone, even though Naerys could still feel her sister somewhere. Somewhere south. 

Aemon sat in his perch in the woods, just above any predator’s height. She was glad that she and the other pup didn’t have to actively take part in hunting at the moment, rather watching Aemon shoot his arrows and drag up rabbits. 

Aemon’s hand went occasionally to her head as he waited for another piece of prey to appear, his fingers scratching in just the right spot behind her ear. She wiggled happily, occasionally licking his hand to encourage him to continue whenever he stopped.

They had caught five rabbits, with one of them being given to the white puppy. Aemon climbed down from his post and helped Naerys and the other puppy down into the snow. 

It was then that Naerys noticed the sun going down. 

“Shit,” the boy said, picking up the string of rabbits, slinging them over his shoulder and picking Naerys and the other pup up, stuffing them under his fur to keep them warm. He began to walk quickly. Cursing under his breath as he went. 

“Aemon!” she heard his father calling for him. “Aemon!”

However, he froze mid step when he saw a person who definitely wasn't from his camp standing before him. 

It was a woman with long flowing white hair and skin the color of milk. She was beautiful, but there was something decidedly  _ other  _ about her. She almost reminded Naerys of her Targaryen aunt in appearance. However, when the woman’s gaze turned to Aemon, it sent a chill down her spine. It burned like ice. 

Aemon pulled out his bow and leveled one of the black arrows at the woman before him. 

“Aemon!”

The woman regarded him for a moment before stepping closer, speaking in a language that sounded like the cracking of ice and yet, Naerys could hear it in her very soul. 

_ I smell her. The fire girl. Tell me, does she burn? _

Aemon took a step back. As he did so, the woman’s cold eyes seemed to narrow. She lunged for him and he let loose an arrow.

Naerys awoke with a jolt, covered in sweat as she scrambled from her bed, reaching wildly for the chamberpot and retching. 

—

“Princess, your parents wouldn’t like you coming here so late at night,” Ser Podrick said, following after her anyway. 

Naerys has her hand on the wall. She had memorized the private wings of the keep at the very least. Seasmoke was whimpering slightly as though he could hear as she did. 

After she had steadied her stomach, Naerys began to head the singing again, like the whispering of leaves in a wood. She just wanted it to stop. 

“You can tell them later,” she said. “I want to go to Jaehaerys.” He made the singing stop last time and he promised to protect her. She worried about Aemon. But he was older, about as old as Prince Daemon. He would surely be fine. 

“Princess Naerys,” she could hear the confusion in Ser Loras’ voice and the dip of it as he bowed. “What are you—”

“I need to speak to Jaehaerys,” she said. “Please.”

The Tyrell knight was quiet for a moment before knocking on the door gently. Naerys fidgeted until she heard the slight patter of feet and the door open and Jaehaerys’ groggy voice come. 

Naerys was stepping towards him before he finished, reaching for him. He realized she was there and his arms were open to her and enveloped her in them as she buried her face in his neck. 

“She needs to return to her rooms or go to her parents,” Ser Podrick said. 

Ser Loras hummed in agreement. “Perhaps, nephew,” the Flower Knight said. “You could take the princess to your aunt and uncle’s chambers.”

“What do you want to do, Naerys?” Jaehaerys whispered, his breath warm against her skin. 

She hadn’t realized she was cold until that moment. Naerys held onto him more tightly. “I want the singing to stop,” she whispered. “I want it to stop.”

Jaehaerys pressed a kiss to her cheek and addressed the two knights. “Naerys can stay with me. Uncle Jon and Aunt Sansa will understand.”

“Jaehaerys—” Ser Loras said, in warning. 

“I am a prince of House Targaryen. You have no right to make either of us do as you wish.” He kissed her hair then. “Let’s go to bed.”

Jaehaerys led her into his room and helped her into his bed. Soon the sheets whispered and the bed dipped ever so slightly as he crawled in after her. She snuggled into his arms, as the singing turned to a soft hum and then Jaehaerys’ lips were upon hers and it was silent. 

They stayed that way for only a few seconds but it felt like forever. 

Naerys pulled away first, burying her face in his chest. “Thank you.”

“I promised to protect you, Naerys,” he said quietly. “You’re mine to protect.” He held her more firmly as Naerys began to drift off to sleep. “My Rhaenys.”

Naerys slipped into a heavy dreamless sleep as Seasmoke jumped onto the bed, curling around her back. 

—

There was another feast, this time for Aunt Margaery. 

Since Naerys was not Aunt Margaery’s daughter, she could sit back with her siblings and eat a couple lemon cakes and shared them with her sisters. 

“Naerys,” Jaehaerys’ voice came as his bell rang ever so softly near them. “Could I have this dance?”

“Of course.”

Her parents had been rather disappointed that she had gone to Jaehaerys’ room to sleep the night before. But she had told them the partial truth that she had a bad dream and had wanted to go to Jaehaerys’ room since it was a little closer. 

Naerys reached out her hand and Jaehaerys took it, helping her from her seat and leading her out into the dance floor. Her aunt had told her that she looked so pretty and graceful when she danced with Jaehaerys and Naerys had to agree, it was smooth and easy. They had practiced so hard to get the steps just right. She felt like her mother when they danced. She was certain she looked just as graceful as her mother or Grandmother Elia. 

When the song had completed, Naerys curtsied as Jaehaerys bowed. 

“Such a wonderful pair you make.” Although Naerys did not hear a bell, she could recognize the voice as Jaehaerys’ great-grandmother, Lady Olenna Tyrell. 

“My lady,” Naerys said, bowing her head slightly. 

“Grandmother,” Jaehaerys no doubt did the same. 

“You two remind me of Jenny of Oldstones and the Prince of Dragonflies,” the elderly woman said. “I remember their wedding like it was yesterday. Why, I do believe the song you just danced to was the song they once danced to many times before.”

Naerys smiled in the old woman’s direction. 

“It was a shame that Duncan had not been made king, he was a good man, but, I suppose things work out as they were meant to.” The woman’s hand came to Naerys’ cheek, and she froze at the coldness. “Perhaps everything has led to this moment.”

Naerys had to keep from flinching away. 

“Off you children go,” the Queen of Thorns said. “Away with you and enjoy the feast.”

Jaehaerys led Naerys away, but she could not help but feel the matriarch of House Tyrell had just made a threat. 

—

“May I have this dance, Princess?” Prince Daemon asked as Princess Joanna has dragged Jaehaerys off to the floor. 

Naerys felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks. “Of course,” she said. “Only if you share the lemon cakes.”

The prince snorted and took Naerys’ offered hand. He led her out onto the dance floor with all the grace and decorum she expected of a prince, his movements as practiced as Jaehaerys’, but something about them made her feel different. It was as though dragonflies were fluttering about in her stomach. 

“You are to be leaving soon?” Naerys asked. The thought made her tense ever so slightly, but Prince Daemon was able to maneuver her easily. 

“My uncle and his family are, as well as my older brother, but my mother and I will be staying with Aunt Rhaenys and Elia. My father is to meet us in the capital eventually.”

Naerys released a sigh of relief, although she couldn’t and wouldn't explain why. “May I be bold and ask a question?”

“I am at your command, Princess,” he said, spinning her in his arms and she leaned against him for balance. 

The dragonflies fluttered in her stomach again. He was warm to the touch, not hot like Jaehaerys, but warm like the summer sun. “What do you look like?”

The Dornish prince thought for a moment. “My grandfather says I look like my Great Uncle Oberyn when he was my age,” he said. “My hair is dark and curly and I have the typical Dornish complexion. My brother takes more after our father.”

“Hm,” she hummed, trying to imagine what he looked like. Princess Joanna had let Naerys touch her face and trace a finger along her features to sense what the other girl looked like, but it felt… too intimate to ask Prince Daemon to do the same. 

“Princess?” His voice had dipped slightly as the sound tickled against her ear and she felt a shiver at the small of her back. “The song has finished. Would you like to dance the next set.”

Naerys felt her cheeks redden. “Yes, my prince.”

“I think I shall share the lemon cakes with you then,” he whispered, still so very close that she could smell the spice upon his skin and she recognized the smell she hadn’t recognized before to be the smell of a summer’s day. “Let’s see how many we can earn until my mother cuts us off.”

Naerys smiled, giggling, her mind a little dizzy as they continued to dance. But it wasn’t the bad sort of dizzy. It was the sort of dizzy that came from the dragonflies fluttering in her brain too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aemon is fine, don’t worry. And I sometimes forget that the Others can actually speak, even if it isn’t in a language that humans can understand. 
> 
> Naerys doesn’t have a crush on Jaehaerys, she feels very safe with him and he’s the first person to make the singing stop. The kisses mean about as much as Baelish kissing Catelyn when it comes to how Naerys feels about them.
> 
> And Olenna is coming out to play. Oh, joy 🙃
> 
> And is someone catching feelings for our little Dornish prince?
> 
> And I’m sorry to say that Rhaegar will get a chapter next 🙄


	34. Rhaegar II

Rhaegar watched as Naerys and Jaehaerys danced at the beginning of the feast. They made the perfect pair, in Rhaegar’s opinion, even outside of the prophecy. 

Naerys’ flaming hair and Jaehaerys’ locks of ice. They were the prophecy in themselves, without the need of Elia. And Rhaegar had heard whispers of how close the two had gotten. He had been there when they all broke their fast and his two sons and their wives informed their children of how inappropriate it was for the two of them to share a bed, even if they were only children. It was still not a good thing to learn, apparently. 

However, Rhaegar saw this as progress. Even though he knew Jon and his wife, and their faction, disagreed with the inevitable betrothal… they could not fight against their daughter if she chose Jaehaerys, if she loved him as a wife loved her husband, a queen her king, they had very little they could argue against. They were not siblings, they were cousins, the children of two half brothers. The incest that so disgusts the masses would be taken care of in that way. 

Rhaegar sighed. If only the realm were not so peaceful at the moment and the children were a little older… then, Jaehaerys would be able to prove himself to be a worthy king to the smallfolk. 

Perhaps it would be wise to take Jaehaerys out into King’s Landing and have the people see him, love him as they loved Lady Sansa. 

However, perhaps there would be a war soon, or at least conflict. Conflict even within the family. 

Rhaegar turned his gaze to his sister, who was watching from the sidelines. Daenerys has put herself at a distance from Jon, but Rhaegar could still see that she burned for him, burned and desired his love like a moth drawn to a flame, similar to Lyanna in a way. But Jon, at least, was indifferent and had no need of Daenerys' love. 

Rhaegar could see her anger, her disgust. Her disregard and dislike for Jon’s children, especially Naerys, the girl and her twin being the catalyst for Jon’s distance. Even if she agreed that Jaehaerys should marry Naerys… She still hoped to marry Jon and give him sons. 

Daenerys was slowly unraveling, Rhaegar could sense it. It was slow; but he just needed to wait to hit the final nail upon the coffin of her sanity. 

Daenerys would never have children. She couldn’t. When Rhaegar was made aware of such things, he had changed the maester of the Red Keep and informed Maester Uther that the topic was of a sensitive nature to Daenerys and to not speak to her if it and that Rhaegar, as her brother, would help her through the trial of being barren. 

Yes. 

That would make Daenerys slip. The people wanted a Targaryen villain. They needed someone to put the blame for all of House Targaryen’s faults and bring Naerys and Jaehaerys together. 

She would serve her purpose, and then she would no longer be a problem. 

—

Naerys was on her third dance with the Dornish prince and Rhaegar had to physically restrain himself from interfering. It would not make him look good. Some still begrudged him for setting aside Elia and making her a consort and Lyanna the queen instead of the other way around. Rhaegar needed to play nice with Dorne. 

They were pushing Naerys and Prince Daemon together, he could see it. But he could not publically speak out against it for Dorne would see it as an insult. It was best to let his children argue over it. 

Perhaps he could make a match between Prince Daemon and Celia. True they were five years apart, but it was not as though they were marrying now. He could encourage that union in the future, but he would not allow a marriage between Naerys and Prince Daemon. 

It was just a passing infatuation, he was certain of it. The prince was not someone Naerys was familiar with and was older. Girls tended to like older boys because they appeared mature, much like Lyanna’s initial interest in him. Naerys’ blushes would soon even out and there would be no more care beyond political or even a friendly nature. Perhaps he could become Hand, maybe that would appease the Dornish. However, it was obvious that Jaehaerys didn’t care for his Dornish cousin. Didn’t care for how Naerys spent time with the other boy. Didn’t care for how she was still dancing with him, even as the fourth song started. 

Rhaegar shook his head. Perhaps he should interrupt them? But no, that would be too obvious. Rhaegar sighed. If only Jaehaerys was not busy trying to entertain Princess Joanna. Gods, he had to make plans of how to configure the girl into his own and see how she changed things. He had no doubt that she was meant to disrupt the blossoming romance between his two grandchildren. But he also worries that the Lannisters were trying to weasel their way back into court with Princess Joanna forming an attachment between herself and Jaehaerys. 

That, Rhaegar couldn’t let happen. 

Gods, why did things have to be so complicated. 

“What’s wrong, my love?” Lyanna asked, putting her hand over his. 

He had forgotten she was even there. “Nothing,” he said. “Simply watching our granddaughter. She has improved remarkably in her dancing, but I still worry for her.”

His wife squeezed his hand. “She is in good hands, the prince is very kind to her from what I can see. It is important for her to make friends outside of the family. Friendships are much better than marriages within politics, I think.”

Rhaegar had to withhold a snort. “Of course.” He lifted his wife’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Perhaps we should dance, my love?”

Lyanna beamed at him and he stood, leading her out to the dance floor to distract her from his dissatisfaction. 

—

Rhaegar could recall Melisandre’s sweet whispers into his ears as her hands caressed his skin, after she had taken him to her bed, riding him and letting his seed spill and settle in her belly. She had been like fire upon those nights, liquid fire and, for brief moments, he could understand his father’s love of it, his lust for the warmth and the power it gave him. 

_ When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. _

She had whispered such words to him and he had been certain that he was right about Jaehaerys, Alysanne, and Naerys. The thought of Azor Ahai had worried him, of course. He had heard the legends, heard of the death of Nissa Nissa which would lead to Azor Ahai’s victory. 

_ There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him. _

It was in this that Rhaegar worried. This hero was to be Jaehaerys, but Rhaegar could not see the boy having the bravery to kill any girl or woman he might come to love and Naerys was the heir and was needed. He sighed, this would be so much easier if Alysanne was still alive. Yet, she was not and Rhaegar had to continue to work on his plans and make sure that the Targaryens won the coming war that would decide the fate of the rest of Westeros. 

For now, all he could think of was, when Jaehaerys and Naerys married, to get her with child as soon as possible. That way, if she died, the line of succession wouldn’t be broken and Jaehaerys would not be so heartbroken after he was forced to take his wife and lover’s life. 

And then, whatever dragon hatched for Naerys would be passed on to her child, hopefully both would still be young and malleable. 

It was a worthy sacrifice after all. 

—

“Why does Naerys like dancing with Prince Daemon?” Jaehaerys groused as he sat in Rhaegar’s solar, doing the work that Maester Uther had assigned him. “She kisses me and I help her and he doesn’t do any of those things.”

Rhaegar set down his paperwork in surprise. The children had kissed already? Well, that was much further along than he had anticipated. 

“I am sure she is just being polite,” Rhaegar reasoned, although he knew it was a lie. In their last dance together, Rhaegar could see the same expression in his granddaughter’s face mirrored in Lyanna’s. “It is best to always remind her that she is yours though. Continue to give her kisses and whisper sweet words into her ear, my little dragon. Give her such things and she will be yours.”

“Truly?” Jaehaerys asked, hopefully. 

“Of course,” Rhaegar said. “I shall make it so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad Rhaegar. Stay away from the children you dirtbag!


	35. Sansa V

“How are you, sweetling?” Sansa said, sitting next to her sister. She was breastfeeding Alys at the moment and Arya looked to be beyond sleep deprived. 

“I wish it were Viserys who could do this,” she admitted.

“And by this you mean…?” 

“Breastfeed or birth,” Arya waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter which.”

“However, you wouldn’t trade it for the world,” Sansa said, brushing her sister’s hair from her face. 

“Mm,” Arya hummed, turning her gaze to the little girl. Alys had decided she was done feeding and yawned before pressing her face against Arya’s breast for comfort. “I’m glad that she takes after Viserys,” she said. “My other two were like me when they were born, all screaming and crying.” 

Sansa smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. Mother and Father said that you were rather peaceful as a babe. It wasn’t until you could walk and knock things over that you became nearly unbearable.” 

Arya chuckled. “I doubt I was that bad.” 

“Of course,” Sansa said. “Mother and Father have sent their well wishes. I know they wished you would come to Winterfell for the births, but I also know that they understand due to…” She could not even finish the thought. 

Arya carefully balanced her daughter in one arm and put her hand over Sansa’s. “I will always be here for you. Always. I know that you have Jeyne, but you need your family. The pack survives.” 

Sansa smiled. “The pack survives.” 

She shifted slightly so she could lean into Arya and rest her head against her sister’s. The two had not always gotten along, what siblings had a perfect relationship with one another. However, Sansa could not ask for a better, more supporting sister. She could not imagine a life without Arya in it. 

—

_Dearest Sansa,_

_I am happy that you have written to me considering the recent loss you have faced. Before I go into the content of your previous letter, let me first state that I am sorry that you had to go through something so tragic. Although I did not know Alysanne, save through news of King’s Landing and what you have told me about her through letters, I know that the world is poorer for it. If she was anything like you, she would have been a shining light upon it._

Sansa was forced to set her letter down. Since the birth of her niece, thoughts of Alysanne had been brought to the forefront of her mind. It was not that she had forgotten her daughter. It was simply that such memories were too painful. It was as though she would be crushed by the weight of her loss. It was dizzying, the way Alysanne’s absence would hit her. 

She never…

How did parents go on, after losing a child?

She would hear about it in passing from lords and ladies in court. She would see Margaery planting flowers. Sansa would always turn away from such thoughts because it was just too horrible to think. But she would always wonder how they could wake up every day? How… How did they breathe?

But, she did wake up. 

And for just a second, she could forget. And then she remembered. And it was like watching Alysanne slip away again and again and again. Every time. She would never stop waking up. She would keep being a parent to her daughters, even though one of them was never going to call to her ever again. 

Sansa set the letter down and put her hand to her mouth. It was not fair, the way she was made to continue reliving this loss, that her body ached from the emptiness of her arms. At this point in the day, she would be kissing Alysanne’s scraped knee or brushing away her petulant tears because Maester Uther was not letting her do the reading she wanted to do. At night Alysanne would be demanding a cuddle and in the morning she would jump onto Sansa’s bed to wake her up. 

Her days and nights had always been filled with Alysanne, her little wolf. 

But now she was gone. 

Gone without reason. 

Her baby girl was gone and still she was made to persevere, to be a mother and wife and princess. She could not understand how Queen Rhaella had handled her losses. 

Sansa shook her head. She needed a clear mind. Allyn’s letter was not finished. Perhaps his words would unlock some clue as to how to protect her family, to keep them afloat. To keep them safe. 

She wiped her tears and continued reading. 

_However, I know you do not wish to dwell on my words of your loss and would prefer for me to answer the questions you have for me about the current predicament in the Vale. The lords are naturally anxious of Robin’s health. He had always been sickly as a boy, but he has grown stronger in recent years and I would argue that the birth of his two young children have greatly helped him in this. It was as though he were consciously trying to make himself better in order to be there for them in a way his own father had been unable to due to old age._

_While I commend Ser Waymar for coming to get to the bottom of what is happening, and I try to help him as much as I am able, he broke many ties with his family over his marriage to Princess Arianne. Some are wary of him for this reason. However, I believe his sincerity will win out the lords who are currently on the fence about him._

_I have heard nothing of any lords being so angry with Lord Arryn to have him killed, however, I know that a few had thought that perhaps Harold Hardying was to be the next leader of the Vale had Robin not lived this long. Perhaps there is a faction of Hardying’s supporters that I had not looked more thoroughly into. I shall rectify that by the time you receive this letter._

_Other than that, I worry for the rising of the mountain clans. They are becoming more dangerous as of late and I worry for the safety of everyone in the Vale. I will not ask that your husband come to deal with these things himself, but I believe we need some me from the King’s employ to better fight the issue of the mountain claims, although I pray this is something we can handle ourselves._

_Your obedient servant,_

_Allyn_

—

There was something wild about the godswood of the Red Keep. Even in the heart of the castle, Sansa could still feel the old gods watching her. Bran said this godswood was nearly silent, but she did not think so. Perhaps the gods spoke to her through the wind. Perhaps they spoke to her in whispers upon a moonlit night. 

However, she was not there to speak to the gods. No, she was there to speak to her sweet daughter. 

“Hello, Alysanne,” she whispered softly, sitting down next to where she had buried a lock of her daughter’s hair. “I miss you sweetling.” 

When Jon wanted to visit their daughter, he went to the Targaryen crypt. For Sansa, it was the godswood. She could not imagine her daughter amongst the dragons. No, her daughter had belonged to the gods of the Starks, to the old gods of the North. Alysanne was a wolf in dragon clothing and that was how Sansa would speak to her. 

“Your aunt Arya had a baby and her little Alys is so like you when you were a babe.” A lie, of sorts, but one that Sansa felt she must tell. It eased the pain, eased the emptiness. Loss let her forget all the moments of frustration. “But she is not you.” 

The wind began to rustle and Sansa closed her eyes. She imagined that it was Alysanne speaking. Her daughter’s sweet voice. 

_Mother._

“Mother!” 

Sansa’s eyes opened quickly and she sat up from her place against the heart tree. She saw Naerys standing in the godswood, reaching out for her. Sansa stood and went to her daughter, taking Naerys’ hands in her own. “What is it, my darling?” 

“I could not find you, and I…” 

Sansa let her daughter wrap her arms around her and began to stroke Naerys’ red hair. “I am right here, sweetling.” 

Naerys sniffed and Sansa realized how upset the girl was. “I couldn’t find Alys,” she sobbed, her body shuddering suddenly. “I couldn’t find Alys.” 

“Oh, sweetling.” Sansa knelt before her daughter and cupped her face in her hands. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and Sansa did her best to wipe them away with her thumbs. She pulled her daughter into her arms, not caring about her dress and cradled Naerys in her arms. “Alysanne will always be with you,” she whispered, pressing kisses to her head. “Even if she is not with you in person, even if she cannot be with you in this world, she is always with you.” Sansa stroked her daughter’s hair and rocked her gently.

They stayed there until Naerys fell asleep in her arms and Sansa quietly called for Ser Renly to carry her sweet girl to bed. 

—

They greeted the party from Starfall with civility. 

However, Sansa had made sure to stand by Rhaenys’ side. Although her good sister did well in putting up a mask of indifference, Sansa knew that the older woman was secretly worried. Ser Arthur Dayne’s actions during the rebellion and his disrespect shown towards Elia had soured the relationship with House Dayne, specifically with his sister Lady Ashara Dayne. It was to the point that the Sword of the Morning rarely met with his sister, nor her bastard son Bryndon Sand. 

It was not for Lady Ashara that Rhaenys was nervous. It was Lord Bryndon, Sansa’s cousin. Sansa held Rhaenys’ hand and squeezed it tightly as Bryndon dismounted his horse. 

From what little her good sister had told her, Sansa’s cousin had proposed to Rhaenys when he learned of her pregnancy, but she had refused him, caring for him, but not in the way that he would have wished. 

Besides, Rhaegar would have never allowed it, even if he counted Ser Arthur as a friend. But Rhaenys did not wish to be married anyway. She did not wish to be tied to a man who would lose his affection once she did not live up to his expectations, like her parents. 

However, from what Sansa could see, Bryndon’s love for her had not wavered. 

Rhaenys squeezed Sansa’s hand as they both stepped out to greet him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been soooo busy these past few weekends!  
> Next chapter will be Rhaenys, where we’ll learn a little more about Bryndon Sand.


	36. Rhaenys II

She had been young and foolish and had wanted to know what it was like. She had wanted to know what sex that seemed to interest her brothers and cousins and uncles so much. She wanted to feel normal, to be a woman loved by a man who wasn’t like her father. Bryndon hadn’t been the only person she had slept with. There were a couple other people, even Daemon Sand, but Byndon had been the last and the one she had realized she hadn’t wanted that. She didn’t want sex. It made her feel… Byndon deserved more than a woman who didn’t want him that way. Regardless of what he said, she didn’t think he needed her. He could love someone else just as much as he supposedly wanted her. He could build a family that way. She was fine with just Elia in her life. 

When he had learned she was pregnant, he had tried proposing. He had begged for her hand, for him to make it right. Even though he was a bastard, his father was going to be the Warden of the North once upon a time before he was killed by Rhaenys’ grandfather. 

It was so interesting, the Targaryen connection to the Starks. They seemed to circle around one another. Round and round they went, always bringing with them absolute tragedy. Oh, there was plenty of happiness in between. But the absolute sadness, the heartbreak that had come from it. Sons without their fathers. Brothers without brothers. The supposed love of a Stark drove her father to abandon her, her mother, and her brother. It led to the death of two Stark men and drove the kingdoms into a war that they were still healing from, no matter what her father said. 

She didn’t know how Jon or Sansa coped with it, the generational loss that seemed to drag them apart before they could claw their way together again. It had taken the loss of Alysanne to do it. The cost… The cost was too great and Rhaenys did not think she could possibly pay it, she wasn’t willing to fight for such a thing, not when she didn’t want it. 

She would not be dragged into that. She would not let her daughter be part of that narrative, no matter how much she knew that Bryndon would be a good father to her. No matter how much she knew he still loved her, after all this time. 

And she loved him too, in her own way. But love and marriage… that meant sex. And she didn’t want that. She didn’t want that at all. 

She didn’t.

—

Rhaenys squeezed Sansa’s hand, thankful for her good sister's support. Besides her mother and Arianne, Sansa was the only one to know the fullness of the situation, but even then, Sansa didn’t know  _ everything.  _ Yet, seeing Bryndon again after so long felt like someone had closed their fist around her heart. It had been years since she had seen him, Rhaenys always planning on traveling with Elia whenever he decided to visit Sunspear. 

He hadn’t changed too much, but he had grown older. His dark hair was showing some signs of greying. He wasn’t that much older than Jon, but he seemed to age so much more quickly. Arianne had said it was because he was constantly worrying about her and Elia, but Rhaenys refused to go down that trail of thought too seriously.

He had gotten married after all.

Although he was a widower now, his wife had died giving birth to a stillborn son. That had been the cause of it, not because of Rhaenys and her daughter. She refused to believe that Bryndon would be so callous about his wife and child. 

She could not imagine that pain either, losing a child before they had even been allowed to live. 

“Princess,” Bryndon said, bowing to her. He straightened, his violet gaze upon her. “I am glad to know that you and your daughter are in good health.” His lips formed a hard line and she could guess the path his thoughts were taking. “Might I…” 

“I will not stop you from meeting her,” she said quietly. She could feel her father’s narrowed gaze upon them. That was another reason she had not wished to encourage Bryndon’s affections. Her father was not a forgiving man. It was one thing for her to mother a bastard, his ability to wave it away to her being Dornish was the only kindness her heritage afforded her from him. Marrying a bastard however… Her father could be cruel when he wished to be. 

“Is that not what you have been doing?” he asked, his voice a slight edge. 

It was Rhaenys’ turn to purse her lips. “You were married.” 

“Not for as long as she has been my daughter,” he countered. 

The air was tense and thicker than any of the summers of Dorne. 

“I am glad your travels have seemed to go smoothly,” Sansa said, interrupting. Rhaenys inwardly thanked her good sister for doing so. “I have missed you, sweet cousin.” 

Bryndon turned his gaze to Sansa and smiled slightly. He took her hand and kissed it. “I have missed you as well. I wish I could have arrived sooner, but…” 

“You need not explain yourself,” Sansa assured him. She let go of Rhaenys’ hand and held Bryndon’s between both of hers. “Such anniversaries should never be forgotten and I now Dorne’s sense of vigils is different from the other kingdoms’.” 

Bryndon bowed his head. 

Rhaegar dismissed them all and Bryndon did not have time to speak to her again as Viserys came to greet him and tell him of the latest addition to his family. 

—

Rhaenys had first met Bryndon when Queen Lyanna had attempted to invite him to court when she was thirteen and he was eleven. It was probably to make herself feel better with the tenth year after the start of the rebellion had come around. Everyone spoke of it, supposedly in whispers, but Rhaenys had always heard it. People seemed to forget sometimes that she was listening. Her father did as well. 

“There is no point in asking him to stay here, Lyanna,” her father had said late into the evening when Rhaenys was supposed to be in bed asleep. 

She knew they were talking about the boy that Lyanna had referred to as nephew. He was distinctly Dornish, but some of his features were like John’s, the longness of his face and the brooding expression, even on someone so young. Lady Ashara was beautiful though. Her striking eyes and her Dornish hair, pinned back in illustrious waves that seemed to proclaim that she was above even the queen in her beauty and the dress she wore aligned herself with the gold and red of the Martell’s, and Rhaenys’ mother. 

“Lady Ashara will take him back to Starfall. There is no point in getting attached.”

“But he is my nephew,” Lyanna had tried to reason. “And it is my fault that he does not have a father, I should have written a letter. I don’t know why you convinced me not—”

“If you wish to reconcile with your family,” her father interrupted. “I would suggest focusing on those that still live North. Perhaps we could form a betrothal between Aegon and your niece Sansa. For what is a Targaryen king without his Stark queen.” 

“But…”

“Shhh.” 

Rhaenys had left them then, going to the nursery to crawl into bed between Aegon and Jon. She wanted her brothers close. She didn’t like strangers in the Red Keep. It made her think of hiding under her father’s bed as all of King’s Landing seemed to roar in panicked screams. 

—

“I am surprised you have not given me some sort of excuse to not speak with me,” Bryandon admitted as the two walked the gardens. 

“I feel like you would not have listened to them anyway,” she told him. 

“I would have listened,” he countered. “I would have known them to be what they are, only excuses, but I would have listened.” 

Rhaenys took in a sharp breath and released it. She knew that was the truth. He would have let her run with her excuses, but she felt he deserved more than to have her constantly running from him. He deserved some sympathy considering what had happened. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. 

“Amira was a good woman,” he said. “Better than I deserve and she would have been a wonderful mother.” His voice was pained, as though speaking of his wife and their babe in the past tense were a heavy blow to his heart. Even the way he carried himself changed. His shoulders hunched forward for a brief moment and Rhaenys was reminded of Jon whenever he spoke of Alysanne, the way he switched between the present and the past, as though his mind and heart were constantly trying to reconcile the emptiness. 

“I never met her,” Rhaenys admitted. “But if she was someone you chose, then I have no doubt that she was a wonderful woman and any child you might have had would have been a light within Dorne.” 

Bryndon nodded. “Even so, I did not deserve her and I lie awake and wonder if I could have done something differently, something to make sure that she would not have been lost.”

“There was nothing you could have done.” 

“That does not mean I do not blame myself. It was my seed that brought her to the steps of the Stranger. I will bear that guilt for the rest of my life.”

“And you wish to make up for it, to a degree by being there for Elia?” 

Bryndon sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “She is my daughter. I know it is not right to handle my loss by being there for her, but she deserves to have a father. She deserves to know that both of her parents want her, even if they are not together.” 

“I won’t keep you from her any longer.” 

“Rhaenys,” he said, stopping and taking her hand in his. “I know that you do not want me as I want you and I have come to terms with that, but know that she is not the only person whose life I wish to be a part of. Even if it is only as friends and there is to be no romance between us, I wish to be your friend and confidant. Will you allow me that privilege at least so that Elia might see us as a unit that she can depend upon?” 

She thought for a moment. “I will, but promise that should you remarry, you will not treat our daughter any differently?”

“The thought would never even cross my mind,” Bryndon said, kissing her hand. “After all, she was given to me by you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhaenys is still very much asexual, however, that doesn’t mean she can’t be romantically attracted to a person. However love and sex supposedly go together in her mind and that makes it hard to move forward, hence her pushing Bryndon away. However, we’ll see more of them. No worries


	37. Jon V

“You’re worried about Rhaenys,” Renly said, stopping the swing of his sword. 

Jon grunted and stepped away from the sparring to get a wet towel to wipe his face. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one, Bryndon Sand is here and I know its an open secret, but the two of them make it rather obvious who fathered Elia.” Renly sat down next to him. “And you enjoy worrying about family, so it’s rather obvious when you brood.”

“I do not brood.” 

“You do,” Renly assured him. “It’s quite annoying at times when I realize that you don’t realize you’re doing it. No wonder your wife could never tell how much you admired her. Your brooding is rather similar to your face of admiration.”

“It is not.” 

“The Blackfish and I had a bet going on when you were brooding or admiring. I’m sad to say he won most of those bets.”

“Well, I’m sorry you lost money.” 

“Meh,” Renly shrugged. “It was more Stannis’ money than my own, so I didn’t really care.” 

Jon rolled his eyes. “Well, you are right, I am brooding because I’m worried about Rhaenys. Father has been trying to convince her to marry and she doesn’t wish to.” 

“To be fair, the Targaryen men haven’t been the best… well... Representatives of our sex.” Renly paused. “Except for Viserys, that man knows how to be a man.” 

“Please do not salivate over my uncle and good brother.” 

“I just speak the truth.” 

“It does not change the fact that Father shall be more insistent about Rhaenys marrying, probably worried that she’ll have another bastard and my father hates bastards.” 

“Hence you gaining the Targaryen name at infancy.” 

Jon sighed. “And perhaps Bryndon would be willing to marry Rhaenys despite her preferences in order to give Elia a set of parents, but my father would never allow it and I don’t know if Bryndon would even ask because of his status as a bastard himself, what’s more he’s a bastard of my uncle who my grandfather murdered.” 

Renly whistled. “I do not envy you for your family complications, truly.” 

Jon glared at him. “Even so, I fear what sort of match my father might make, especially if he is pushing for a betrothal between Naerys ad Jaehaerys. He will want to put Rhaenys into a house that would support that union.” 

“I do not envy you in that either,” Renly said. “If it were up to me, I would take the girls away and have them live in the Stormlands, I think my brother still has the keep Tempest Grove in my name, although I have not visited it in years and his steward Davos Seaworth is the one to man it.”

“Naerys might take you up on such a thing,” Jon said. “She asked if she might marry you one day due to your stories.”

Renly threw back his head and laughed. “I would be honored, but I fear I am far to old.” 

Jon rolled his eyes. “Yes that is the only reason.” 

At that, Renly shoved Jon off the bench. 

—

There were moments still where he would glance off to the side and wonder where Alysanne had gotten to. He would ready to stand to look for her and then the reality of it would bring him crashing back down to the ground and his breath would be knocked from his lungs as though he had fallen from a horse. 

Alysanne was gone and he would never see her again. 

Sometimes, at night, Sansa would awaken and Jon would wake with her. For a few moments, his wife was quiet and then she would begin to tremble as she tried to keep the tears at bay. Jon would pull her close and hold her as she sobbed into his arms and he would find himself crying as well. Nothing and no one could properly fill the void Alysanne had left them. 

But the loss of his second eldest daughter did not stop him from being a father. 

Naerys had become more stable in her surroundings with her blindness. She was not bumping into people or things as often as she had in the past and, if anything, she had doubled down upon her courtesies. However, she seemed to have gained a sense of adventure that Jon remembered in Alysanne, hence why he and Sansa had banned tree climbing amongst the children. 

Celia, at four, had taken a great interest in helping her big sister, wanting to be a big girl. She would follow Naerys when she was allowed to and would imitate her as well, trying to be a proper lady it seemed, or, at the very least, understanding that it was up to her to take care of her sister, even though Jon and Sansa had tried to assure her that it wasn’t her duty to do so. 

And little Lydia was almost three. At the very least she did not seem to be growing up too quickly, content to sit in Jon’s lap and nap against his chest as he watched her sisters play in the gardens while Sansa napped. 

His wife had been rather tired lately and he worried for her slightly. He did not wish for her to overwork herself and Jon knew that she could and would do it if she was not reigned in. He was glad, in that regard, that she had Lady Jeyne with her. The Northern woman was a wonderful companion to his wife and he knew that the other woman wouldn’t let Sansa overwork herself. In fact, it was Lady Jeyne who had convinced Sansa to rest for the afternoon. Nothing needed her immediate attention and Jon was more than willing to look after their girls. 

“Father!” Naerys called. “Can we have lemon cakes?”

Jon chuckled and stood, holding Lydia carefully to his chest. “Of course, sweetling,” he said. “Let’s head to the kitchens and see if any have been made today.”

—

“Jon,” Sansa’s whisper broke him from the thin layer of sleep that had taken hold of his consciousness. 

“Hm?”

“I need you.” 

Jon shot up from his place in the bed, eyes wide as he turned to look at her in deep concern. He felt bad for only a moment when he saw the blush rising against her cheeks. 

Oh. 

_ Oh.  _

That’s what she meant. 

“We don’t have to,” she said. “If you don’t want to.” 

Jon snorted and she glared at him. His face grew pale. “No, that’s not what you think.” He got on top of her and settled himself between her spread thighs. “I always want you, Sansa,” he said gently. “All you need do is ask.”

Sansa cupped his face in her hands and Jon brought his head down to press his forehead against hers. “I want another baby, Jon,” she said softly. “Do you?” 

She looked so vulnerable beneath him, her bright eyes looking up to him with all the hope in the world. Gods, he did not deserve her, but the fact that she was his and he was hers made him a blessed man. 

“I do, Sansa,” he said gently, turning onto his back and pulling her on top of him. “I do.” 

Sansa searched his gaze for a moment, as though she were trying to see if he were speaking the truth. She seemed to find the answer she wanted as she rested her head against his chest and hummed in content as he held her there. “My moonblood is late,” she said softly. “It’s… it’s too soon to tell, but I might… I might be with child.” 

Jon’s heart began to pound in his chest and he knew that Sansa could feel it, for he could feel her shift ever so slightly. He looked down and found her looking up to him, a small smile upon her lips. 

“Truly?” 

“Nothing is certain, but I think so.” 

Jon smiled and put his hand on her side, his thumb running along her stomach ever so lightly. “Sansa…”

“Are you happy?”

“Sansa,” he said tenderly again. He pulled her up slightly and pressed his lips firmly against hers. “I am happy as we are, but the idea of another child.” Jon grinned. “It’s as though my world has clicked into place again. I know…” he paused. “I know this babe will not replace Alys.” Sansa pressed her forehead against his own. “But I want to make things right between us. Completely and utterly. I will not leave your side. I will be here for all of it. I know I have already promised not to be far from you, but I promise I shall not leave the capital and will be with you through all of this, Sansa. Sansa… Is it safe to… you know…” 

Sansa smiled at him, lifting his sleep shirt as she pushed herself up. “We just need to be careful.” 

Jon smiled up at her and pushed himself forward so he could kiss her again, this one less chaste than the last. 

—

“Hello, brother,” Aegon said, sitting next to him as both their wives were occupied with their mothers. “I think our father has begun to take an interest in hosting feasts.” 

“Aye,” Jon replied. “Since Jon Connington is not speaking against the spending, one of us needs to.” 

Aegon sighed. “Yes. I don’t like how much money he is spending. I believe he’s trying to show we are not in debt.” 

“We aren’t,” Jon said. “But we will be if he keeps spending as he is now.” 

His brother grunted. “Any word from Waymar?” 

“Some,” Jon said. “The main thing I have gathered is to not trust Allyn Baelish.” 

“Never liked the man myself.”

“You met him?”

“Once in Highgarden. He had come to represent the Vale on some sort of trade agreement that I’m certain is running smoothly. The man is as oily as a snake. Lady Olenna finds him useful and for that I do not trust him.” 

“You do not care for the Queen of Thorns?”

“She finds me highly disappointing,” Aegon replied. “After all, I cannot give her granddaughter a queenship and she so loves to tut whenever Margaery is not… well.”

Jon grimaced. His brother never formally spoke of his wife’s inability to carry children. After the incident where Margaery fell from her horse, she had not been able to carry. The pain of losing Alysanne was unbearable. He could not imagine the pain his brother went through. “Jaehaerys is a sweet boy,” Jon reasoned. “You should be proud of him.”

“Yet, you do not approve of a betrothal.” 

“Because I want the Targaryens to move on from intermarriage. Jaehaerys might make a good advisor, even a Hand, but I do not wish for him to take the throne alongside Naerys.”

“I think he loves her,” Aegon replied. “And I think Naerys cares deeply for him.” 

“Perhaps,” Jon said, looking out onto the floor and saw his eldest daughter dancing with the Dornish prince and Jaehaerys watching them, his cheeks red. “And if Naerys tells me she wishes to marry him, I will not go against her wishes. However, until then, I will push against it. I do not trust Margaery’s grandmother either. And if she has the likes of Allyn Baelish as a friend, then that gives me even more reason not to allow her the thought of any prospects for the Iron Throne. I’m sorry Aegon.” 

His brother turned his gaze to his son. “We’ll see, Jon,” he said. “Targaryen men seem to have a great deal of luck when it comes to charming Stark women. I don’t care what the others say, Naerys has just as much wolf in her as Alysanne did.”


	38. Jaehaerys IV

Jaehaerys could not remember it, but he, Naerys, and Alysanne once shared a crib. The three were close in age with Jaehaerys being older by one year. It was safer, their grandfather reasoned, for them all to be in one crib worn a knight guarding it.

In truth, there were three cribs and the children would sleep in a different crib at random with the knights switching what crib they were guarding. Jaehaerys’ parents and uncle and aunt had found the act pointless, but their grandfather had insisted that it was the safest thing to do, after all, Jaehaerys and his cousins were, thus far, the future of House Targaryen. 

Jaehaerys was always situated on the left of Naerys while Alysanne was situated on her sister’s right. It was as though they were her constant protectors. After all, she was to be queen one day. Their queen. 

They had grown out of sharing a crib once they got older. And their chosen knights were also assigned at the time as well. Uncle Loras became Jaehaerys’ knight. Ser Podrick became Alysanne’s. Ser Renly became Naerys’. 

The three were inseparable and it was Jaehaerys’ duty as the eldest to look after the girls. Even his uncle would ruffle his hair and say he could breathe a little easier knowing his girls has such a wonderful knight-in-training. Jae harts took pride in that. He wanted to protect them as his father protected his mother. He wanted to be like Aemon the Dragonknight or Prince Duncan. 

They were his and he could remember his grandfather whispering to him softly that he was to be their husband one day and husbands protected their wives. 

But then, he could not protect them. 

He remembered them getting sick, their bodies feeling so hot that it was as though he were touching ice. He could remember his parents whisking him away and him crying, wanting to stay with Naerys and Alys to protect them. 

But he couldn’t protect Alys. 

He held his mother and father’s hands tightly as they attended the funeral, Alys cold and quiet and still, like she was sleeping. But Alys was never still when she slept, she moved, she turned over and kicked the blankets off her body. Seeing Alys like that… he couldn’t stomach it, closing his eyes the entire time, pressing his face into his mother’s side, wishing it were not true, praying it was not true. 

When he was allowed to see Naerys again, he swore that he would never let anything happen to her. She was his to protect and not even the gods could take her from him. He was hers and she was his. He would protect Naerys and no one would ever hurt her, not even the gods themselves. 

—

Jaehaerys’ great-grandmother was a sight to behold. He was half convinced she was the oldest person in the Seven Kingdoms, but there was no possible way he would ever say that to her face. Jaehaerys knew well enough that a man never commented on a woman’s age, especially if that woman was Lady Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns herself. 

Lady Olenna was an elegant-looking woman, with dropping soft skin that felt like satin against Jaehaerys’ fingers when he held her hand. He was not yet tall enough to offer her his arm and wondered if she would still be around when he was old enough to. 

He also knew that his mother and the Queen of Thorns did not get along. For what reason, he was not certain. There was a tension between them that was so thick that Jaehaerys would be able to cut it with his wooden sword. His father seemed uncomfortable around the older woman too. 

She likes Jaehaerys well enough though. 

“Now, my boy,” the elderly woman said as he helped her to her seat in the gardens. “Tell me what your plans are to woo the princess.”

Jaehaerys’ cheeks turned bright red. “I don’t  _ woo _ .”

The woman laughed. “If you want to beat out a Dornish prince then you very much are going to have to  _ woo _ . Those Dornishman are notoriously good at not playing fair.”

Jaehaerys believed that statement was directed at his great-uncle Oberyn’s incident with his Uncle Willas. However, despite the tensions between the Martells and the Tyrell’s, Oberyn and Willas got along rather well. 

“Why would I have to woo her?” he asked. “Grandfather says she is to marry me one day.”

“He does, does he?” the Queen of Thorns scoffed. “I very much doubt that false prince and his wife would allow for such a betrothal. No, you need to woo your sweet cousin so that it is her choice to marry you. I doubt they would fight against it if she were the one asking.”

It took a moment for Jaehaerys to realize his great-grandmother was speaking of his Uncle Jon and Aunt Sansa. 

“But I’m Naerys’ person,” Jaehaerys said quietly. 

The elderly woman pat his head. “I’m sure you are, sweet boy, but you mustn’t allow for any room for error. You are to be the king of the Seven Kingdoms and Princess Naerys’ husband. Have her publicly choose you and none shall be able to stand against you, especially parents who are foolish enough to encourage their child’s happiness.”

Jaehaerys narrowed his eyes, unsure of what the woman meant, but listened to her anyway as he gave her all the advice she deemed necessary. 

—

“Tell me, my dragon,” Jaehaerys’ grandfather said as they went out on a morning ride, the boy sitting in front of his grandfather on the saddle. “What do you know of our family’s history?”

“The Targaryens United the Seven Kingdoms,” Jaehaerys repeated from his lessons. “We’ve ruled for almost three centuries.”

“And what else?”

“We are the blood of the dragon, descended from the nobility of ancient Valyria. We escaped the Doom and made our way to Westeros, to Dragonstone.”

“Very good,” his grandfather said. “We were able to escape the Doom of Valyria because the gods could see that we had a greater part to play in this world, especially in Westeros. Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, perhaps, could not see it, but they were guided to Westeros by the gods so that we might deliver the people from the threat that is soon to come.”

Jaehaerys narrowed his eyes. “What threat?”

“Do you know the Stark words, Jaehaerys?”

“Winter is coming,” he repeated, mimicking his uncle’s deep voice and serious nature whenever he and Aunt Sansa repeated their family words to Naerys or her sisters. 

“Precisely. And we are the Targaryens, we are fire and blood and with it we shall make sure that the winter is stopped before it can take our lands for we have been chosen.” He put his ruffled Jaehaerys’ hair as they reached the top of the hill which overlooked King’s Landing. “You have been chosen. All this, Jaehaerys will one day be yours. While Jon is my official heir, you are the Prince who was Promised. You are the true heir to the Iron Throne and Naerys is to be at your side to give you an heir and to serve the greatest purpose of Westeros.”

It sounded like a fairytale or a song. “Really?”

“Yes. Keep your chin up,” he said. “For when you are old enough, all of this, Naerys, the throne, the crown, shall all be yours, my little dragon.”

Jaehaerys looked down at the city, so far below him it was as though he were flying. 

—

The singing was happening again, this time, Jaehaerys had taken her out for a walk, it was in the middle of the day, just after lunch and they were all getting ready for Jaehaerys’ nameday. He had already gotten his sweet cousin to save four dances with him, the first two and the last two, the most important of all. 

Naerys was near tears at the sound of the singing, even though Jaehaerys could not hear it. It was as though a deep sadness had taken over her, similar to when Alys had died. Now she looked haunted, but Jaehaerys could see her beauty underneath, like Duncan had seen Jenny’s. Her copper hair was braided simply and her blue dress was made of the softest Dornish silk and white lace like a spider’s web draped across her skirt like falling snow. Once they were alone, where none might discover them, Jaehaerys sat them down besides the below the rhododendron flowers and the hollyhock. He tucked her hair behind her ear and pressed his lips tenderly to her own, staying there until she eased into him. He pulled away and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Better?”

She nodded and held him tightly, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhododendron – beware  
> Hollyhock – ambition
> 
> The kids shouldn’t be getting a POV for a while now. I think I’m doing Bran or Waymar.
> 
> And I feel bad for Jaehaerys because he’s got a good heart, but he has so many people not asking him to think about his own choices.  
> I’ve also done some manips of the children only older. Here we are  
> [Elia Sand and Naerys Targaryen](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/630505085268557824/lady-elia-sand)  
> [Daemon Martell and Naerys Targaryen](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/630324967140212736/prince-daemon-martell)  
> [Jaehaerys and Naerys Targaryen](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/630324881031069696/princess-naerys-targaryen)  
> [Another Naerys and Jaehaerys](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/630274976277299200/princess-naerys-targaryen)  
> [Naerys Targaryen with a sword](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/629992649124872192/he-could-sense-that-his-niece-had-some-great-part)  
> [Celia and Lydia Targaryen](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/629930651684077568/princess-celia-targaryen)  
> [Naerys Targaryen](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/629929019031306240/princess-naerys-targaryen)


	39. Bran III

Three dragons raged in the sky. Green and white and black. They raged against the reddening sky, like the fire in which they would birth. They danced across the sky, their roars echoing across it, ripping against Bran’s ears. 

He could not tell if this was a vision of the future or a dream that did not mean quite what it showed him. Perhaps it meant something deeper than another dance of dragons, but perhaps it didn’t perhaps it was not literal. 

“It is and it isn’t,” the Bloodraven said beside him. “Sometimes things can be literally and metaphorical all at once.”   
“Are you saying that dragons will return?” Bran asked carefully. 

“I am saying that another dance might happen, but I have no doubt that you already know this.” The Bloodraven turned his back and Bran was suddenly brought into the throne room of the Red Keep. “Everything you will see has happened before, in one way or another, at least. Humans are rather predictable when it comes to how they will react to certain things. It is almost boring.” 

“And to what end?” Bran asked. 

“Chaos is a ladder and everyone seeks to reach the top, unaware that power is upon a wheel.”

“A wheel the Targaryens put into place and refused to place spokes connecting to themselves.” 

The Bloodraven laughed. “True enough. All the other houses and kingdoms are more intimately connected when it comes to each other. The Targaryens were never good at sharing.”

“Dragons are not things to be played with and used as the Targaryens have.” 

“Dragons were meant to be wild, but were tamed by blood magic long lost. Aegon was close to uncovering the truth, but then the Tragedy of Summerhall struck and such knowledge was lost. Rhaegar is coming to learn the truth and I believe he will be willing to pay the price.”

“And what price must be paid?” 

“Blood,” his mentor replied. “Not his, of course, the current king still has a part to play in all this. But one death has already been used as payment.”

“And what death is that?” 

“Children are often sacrificed to appease the gods in some religions. They are pure and innocent and only a truly cruel person would be willing to make such sacrifices for what they want.” 

“Alysanne.” 

“Necessary.” 

“No child’s death is necessary,” Bran said in horror. 

“Some believe it is when it comes to their personal gain.”

Bran looked to the Bloodraven with wide eyes. “Was her death no accident?” 

“Her death was not the one meant to be sacrificed. The child born out of love was meant to be the one lost, but it appears the gods shall give your sister and her husband respite from another loss such as sweet Alysanne. She was meant to have a greater purpose than that of a sacrifice, but the gods do what they can with the opportunities presented by men.” 

“Who killed her?” Bran demanded. “Who killed my niece?!” 

“Chaos is a ladder, boy,” the Bloodraven said. “Chaos is not meant to be understood.”

A howl ripped through the air and the roof of the throne room was burned and crumbling, snow fell upon the world around them as another howl echoed across the air. Bran turned, feeling a pull North. He found himself beyond the Wall, beyond anywhere he had ever been as the howl continued. 

He knew this presence. He had felt it disappear from the world, flicker out like a dying flame. Why—

“That is not for you to know,” came his mentor’s voice and everything went black. 

—

Bran awoke, frustrated once more with his mentor. 

The Bloodraven was not normally one to withhold information, especially when Bran knew well enough that he was not to directly interfere with people’s decision making. However, it did not mean that he could not create counter measures to better prepare his family and their people for the aftermath of decisions he had ultimately no control over. Bran knew this, yet this mentor was hiding something from him. He had been ever since he had come to the capital. The futures of his niece, the little prince, and even the young Dornish prince, were like fog to him. It was moments like this that Bran did not trust his mentor, did not trust that his mentor was serving his proper purpose. 

He could have sworn that the presence in the far North felt familiar. Yet… it felt wrong. 

The presence, the consciousness, had not belonged there. It was as though the world had shifted slightly and what should not be possible was. 

He could have sworn… He could have sworn. 

But it mattered not. 

He would have a proper conversation with the Bloodraven about shutting him out the next time the old Targaryen decided he was worthy of being spoken to. 

Bran shifted from his bed, careful to not wake Meera. His wife was not the heaviest of sleepers, but she could sleep soundly when she wanted to. He went to the crib near their bed and peered down at his two children. Minisa and Jojen were blissfully asleep, innocent of all the politics and darkness that swirled about them. 

Jojen had his thumb in his mouth, although precariously so, as though he could roll away from the habit quite easily during the course of the night. Minisa, in turn, was sprawled upon the crib bed, scowling at whatever annoyance her dream had given her. However, they were at peace and safe within their crib, their future happy and secure. 

Bran closed his eyes, keeping his hands firmly upon the rim of the crib as he felt time and space move about him, flowing forward down the usual path he always tread when worrying about the future of those most precious to him. 

Jojen was the next lord of Greywater Watch, he led their people into more openness with the rest of the North and strengthened their trade. He had a wife Bran did not look too closely at and four beautiful children. Beautiful children with futures as plentiful as the branches upon an old oak tree. 

Minisa was riding a horse, a child sitting before her on the saddle, laughing and cheering as she galloped around the field, a man calling for her as another child cried for their turn. 

Bran was pulled back to the present by Meera slowly wrapping her arms around his waist. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to look at their futures,” she said, sleepily. 

“I’m looking at a possible future,” Bran said. “The sweetest one that I could see.” There were dark futures, ones that were murky, that were filled with ice or fire or both. Futures he could not comprehend. 

Meera pressed a chaste and gentle kiss to his neck. “Come back to bed, Bran.” 

He turned and kissed his wife upon the mouth. “As you wish, my shieldmaiden.” 

Meera rolled her eyes before yawning. She pulled him back to their bed and Bran settled beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulled her to his chest, content. 

—

Bran wondered if this was the Bloodraven’s way of apologizing for hiding things from him. For when he passed Prince Jaehaerys during the preparations for the boy’s nameday, Bran felt the familiar pull of a future, of a possibility, being shown to him. 

The world was on fire as three children desperately began to search for a way out. Two bodies crushed beneath burning wood. 

“Sacrifices,” the Bloodraven’s voice came. “Necessary and welcome sacrifices.” 

Three children attempted to leave the confines of the fire. 

This is what Bran hated the most. Seeing but being unable to help. 

Two children stuck out to him the most. Red hair like Sansa’s and silver hair like the king’s. Prince Jaehaerys held his cousin close to his chest, promising that everything would be okay as Bran’s niece sobbed helplessly, the heat of the flames licking her tears away before they could properly fall. Naerys had her hands over her ears. 

“Make it stop!” she shouted. “Make it stop!”

“This way!” the other child called. “The nursery! The Nursery! We could get out from the nursery!” 

The screech of dragons echoed across the keep and the world fell away. A summer so hot began to spread about the land, the world turning into a golden haze. A summer that would endure. 

“No,” Bran said. “Summer should not be this long. Summer was not meant to be this long.”

“Are you alright, my lord.” 

Bran blinked back into the present and saw the young prince staring up at him, worried. “I am fine, my prince,” he said with a slight bow. “I just realized I had forgotten to do some paperwork before I left to come to the capital.”

“Oh,” the boy said. He paused. “I am sure it cannot be so important if you forgot it.” 

Bran swallowed. “I hope not, your grace. I hope not.” 

—

It was obvious that his sister and her husband were not ready to share the news of their pregnancy quite yet, but Bran recognized the signs for he was the same way with Meera. Jon was protective of his wife, extra caring while both of them would share a smile between each other, a private thing as Jon’s hand brushed against Sansa’s still flat belly. 

Bran smiled at them, thankful that the gods would not take this child from them. Jon and Sansa deserved this, just as Aegon and Margaery deserved to love and dote on their son for all that they lost. Yet…

Bran sensed something dangerous upon the horizon. History enjoyed repeating itself and Bran worried. 

Bran turned his gaze and saw Summerhall. 

In the last years of King Aegon V’s reign, the old dragon searched high and low for ancient lore about dragons and their breeding in Old Valyria. He searched in Asshai and anywhere else he could think of. The dream of dragons and whatever else the Targaryen king had hoped for had turned into the beginning of their near destruction. The once large and noble house had been brought together to Summerhall and it was through the ashes of his family that the now King Rhaegar would be born. 

... the blood of the dragon gathered in one… … seven eggs that should have been three… … the blood of kings was the only way to light the fire… … pyromancers… … the septon gave their warning… wildfire… flames grew out of control… towering… burned so hot that… died, but they lived… the children lived… a dragon must have three heads…

“Naerys!” 

“Not yet,” the Bloodraven once more pulled Bran back from the vision.

“Is the Tragedy at Summerhall to be repeated?” 

“Yes,” the Bloodraven said. “And no.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooo the future is being shown ooooo~~~~
> 
> Also, I have a newer Jonsa fic that updates every Wednesday. It’s called [A Dream of Spring](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26614696/chapters/64893622) It’s part of the Celiaverse, but it’s more focused on Jonsa. It has the found family trope and the accidental acquisition of a child trope. Check it out ❤️


	40. Waymar II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: you will cry

Waymar had first seen Arianne at a tourney held for Prince Aegon’s nameday. He had been charged to accompany Lord Jon to the event and she was to serve as her father’s representative alongside her uncle. 

He would not lie and say that her beauty wasn’t the first thing he noticed about her. It would be a falsehood and one she would hardly believe. Most men noticed her appearance. She was tanned, as though the sun could not help but caress her constantly, showing her its favor by kissing her skin when it could. Her eyes were as dark as the night sky and her hair was as black as raven feathers, her curls falling down her back like night sky had somehow been turned into water. She had full lips constantly curled into a smile as though she was aware of something everyone else was not. 

Almost every man in attendance looked to her with want and awe, her family being the only ones seemingly outside her spell’s reach. He was only sixteen and he was utterly enchanted. He begged Lord Arryn to allow him to participate in the tourney, even if he had only just earned his knighthood. The Lord of the Vale seemed to know just what had spurred on his young knight into action. He allowed it, but warned Waymar to not be too disappointed if he lost and some other knight crowned her. For surely all would crown her save for the two princes who almost always crowned their sister or their mothers. 

Waymar had not cared if he won, but even the chance to get close to the girl, woman really as she was eighteen, was enough for him to stick his neck out. He won four rounds, but was promptly defeated by Prince Jon in the fifth. Knocked cleanly onto his back, the wind being knocked completely from his lungs as well. But it had been worth it for Princess Arianne had come to him to make certain he was alright, joking that her cousin could be rather Northern in his ways of unseating his opponents. 

Instead of replying with the affirmative that he was alright, Waymar had foolishly apologized for not winning the tourney as he had hoped to crown her the Queen of Love and Beauty. She had blinked at him in surprise and threw her head back and laughed happily at the thought. Arianne had kissed his cheek and thanked him for the noble thought and said that perhaps he could crown her at the next tourney. 

The next year, when he was seventeen, he attended the tourney held in Starfall and one on pure luck more than skill and proudly rode his horse to crown the princess as his Queen. He had not spoken to her before that point.

“You remembered,” she said, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. 

“Of course,” he replied. “I don’t think I could ever forget a moment I shared with you.”

—

As much as he was loathed to turn his gaze from Allyn Baelish, Waymar was forced to focus his attentions upon Lord Petyr Bealish. The man had never sat right with him, not the way the Lady Lysa seemed to favor him, nor how quickly she had remarried after Lord Jon had passed away. 

He did not blame the lady for not loving her husband. While Waymar loved his previous liege lord, he could understand that the age gap between his lord and his lady was rather great. There were also the countless children lost between them over the years with Lord Robin being the only one to survive to adulthood. Even so, the fact that she would marry so quickly when her husband was barely cold in the ground had sat wrong with pretty much all the lords of the Vale. Even so, they could say very little as they did not wish to disrespect their lord. 

Lady Lysa loved her son, of that he had no doubt, so he knew that she was the last person in the Vale who would do anything to harm her son. However, the two people she was completely blind to were Lord Baelish and his son. However, Waymar doubted that Allyn had anything to do with Robin’s poisoning. That did not mean he thought the younger Baelish was innocent. Far from it, however, Waymar believed that it was the Baelish elder that had his hand in what was happening with Lord Robin. 

He just wasn’t sure how to prove it. 

—

“My husband wishes to speak with you,” Lady Shireen said, her eyes misty. 

Waymar bowed his head and kissed the younger woman’s hand. Her eyes were rimmed red and he knew well enough that she had been crying. He turned to her shared rooms with her husband and entered. He heard Lady Shireen sob and leave the room quickly after he had left her. 

Lord Robin had begun to waste away during Waymar’s stay and he had slowly begun to lose hope. Waymar bowed at the edge of the bed. “I am at your service, my lord.” 

Robin looked to him, his blue eyes a little distant. “I don’t think I am to be here for much longer,” he said, softly. “I can feel myself fading, like the world is slowly unraveling around me.”

“My lord, surely you have more time…”

Robin coughed and shook his head. “I wish… I wish I could be there to present my little Arwen in the sept and kiss her cheek and bully whatever man has proven himself worthy of her. I wish I could be there when Mathos wins his first tourney and be there to advise him as he learns what it means to be a lord. I wish I could see Shireen to her old age. I wish that we could grow old together.” A tear ran down his pale cheek. “I wish for a lot of things. But I cannot be there for my family and I pray the gods forgive me for not being strong enough to protect them.” 

“My lord, they will never doubt your love for them, I swear it.” 

“I wish I had lived long enough so that my children might remember me, that Arwen might remember me singing to her, that Mathos would remember me tucking him into bed.” The young man swallowed. “I wish I could have done more.” Lord Robin looked to Waymar, his eyes clear, even though tears slid down his cheeks. “Ser Waymar,” he began. “I beg that you take my wife and children to King’s Landing, my cousin Sansa will look after them and my wife’s uncle will do the same.”

“My lord—”

“I need you to leave with them tonight.” 

Waymar’s mouth was open but he shut it quickly. “Tonight?”

“I love my mother, my lord,” he said. “But she has no care for my wife and I fear that she will attempt to take the children away from her.” Lord Robin motioned to a drawer near the bed. “I have written a will and a letter stating that I wish for my children to be under the care of either my cousin Sansa or my good uncle, Renly Baratheon. I fear they are the only ones with the power that might be able to protect them from my mother and keep them out of Lord Baelish’s grasp.” 

“Do you think it was Lord Baelish who did this?” Waymar said as he retrieved the scrolls, looking their contents over. 

“I think my stepfather quickened what the gods had already preordained,” Lord Robin replied. “I have no proof, but I am not so foolish as many seem to think. I know that they hope to throw in their lot with Harrold Hardyng, although I don’t think the man truly knows what such a powergrab will do.” 

“Can you not come with us?” Waymar asked. “To the capital, I mean.” 

“I do not think I will survive that long,” Lord Robin said gently. 

“My lord, surely—”

“Please, Ser,” he said. “Take my wife and children and flee. Take what men you have come with and flee. I do not wish for my children to be caught up in the conflict. I will not let House Arryn die because I was too selfish to let them go.” 

“My lord—”

“Go.”

—

They left in the dead of night. Lady Shireen was crying softly as she sat upon her donkey, holding her sleeping son to her chest and Lady Mya Stone held little Arwen as they made their descent down the mountain. They had to be quiet so as to not alert the rest of the house, but also not to let any of the mountain clans hear their movement. 

Waymar prayed that all the gods were watching after them as they made their descent. He did not breathe easy until their party made it all the way down the mountain. They ordered for the Royce carriage and set Lady Shireen, Lady Mya, and the children inside it before they made for their journey to King’s Landing as quick as possible. 

It was only when they were far enough away from the base of the mountain that Lady Shireen began to sob loudly, waking the children as their cries echoed against their mother’s. A husband and father lost to them forever. 


	41. Arianne III

Her heart broke upon the news of Robin Arryn’s death. 

Both Sansa and Arya were distraught upon the arrival of the letter. Both Jon and Viserys had taken their wives to their private chambers to allow them to rest. Arya, who was the strongest of the Starks in Arianne’s mind, had broken down into pitiful sobs, crying over the poor children who would never know their father or how much they loved them save for the stories their mother and vasel lords would be able to tell. Sansa’s mourning was more graceful, but no less pronounced. She donned her mourning clothes and sent word to her mother and uncle as well as her aunt. It was horrible, Arianne thought, to be so practiced in mourning. 

“Shireen will be vulnerable,” Ser Renly said as some of them gathered in Jon’s solar. “As will the children. I don’t trust that someone might be using this to sew discord within the Vale as well as the rest of Westeros. House Arryn is connected to the Starks, Tullys, Targaryens, and the Baratheons. His death was too sudden. Shireen told me he had been doing better.” 

Arianne thought of her husband’s description of the young Vale lord and, although she did not know him personally, Waymar had said that the boy had grown healthier throughout the years, Shireen’s encouragement had even gotten him up and down the mountain, as though the thought of being able to run after their children had encouraged him to build his strength. But to deteriorate so quickly…

“What if it wasn’t poison?” Arianne said. 

Everyone turned to her. 

“What do you mean?” Aegon asked. 

“What if it was not poison?” she repeated. “What if it was something else?” 

“What’s your theory? Theon Greywolf said. 

“Dragon fever can take many forms. It is not dangerous to adults, but Lord Arryn’s health was never the best. What if he caught the fever and it presented itself differently from how it did with the girls?” 

The room was quiet. 

“But surely the measter in the Eyrie would have spotted that,” Rhaenys said. 

“Not necessarily,” Arianne continued. “Waymar wrote and said the current maester was not the same one that served under Lord Jon Arryn. This man had been brought by Lord Petyr Baelish. What if the maester could be paid off. It would not be the first time.” She thought of the maester who had served the Targaryens before Maester Uther. Pycelle had been a Lannister man and it was only the grace of all the gods that Aegon and Aunt Elia had survived his birth. 

“You think he was purposefully infected,” Lady Margaery said, horrified. 

“It might be the reason no one was able to find a poison.” Arianne nodded before looking to Jon. “I think we need to investigate how the girls got sick.” 

The crown prince paled and turned from the room, Ser Renly following as a storm began to brew outside the window. 

—

“Do you truly think that my daughters were infected with the fever on purpose,” Jon asked as he sent his most trusted men to read over the logs of anything and everything that was given to Naerys and Alysanne prior to them catching the fever.

“I pray I’m wrong,” Arianne said. “Only a monster would endanger children. It is one thing to fight a war and take part in a battle. It is one thing to kill a man as you try to live another day to get back to your family, it is another to try and take the life of the innocent. That is not what anyone, noble or common should ever do.” 

Jon was leaning against the wall of the balcony, looking over the city. “Sometimes I wonder if this is all punishment for being born,” he said. “I wonder if my children will pay for the sins of my parents. Pay for the sins of a crown I never wanted but cannot deny, for if I do… If I do, I will not be able to protect my daughters from whatever plans Aegon or my father has for them.” 

“Is that why you will not give it up?” Arianne asked, having never thought on why Jon did not step down. 

Jon sighed, his knuckles white against the stone. “When Lydia was born, when Sansa and I had another girl, I wondered if perhaps it would be better to step down. Sansa and I had been married for years, almost a decade and still no sons, and Aegon and Maergaery only had Jaehaerys, but he was healthy and has a decent head on his shoulders. But then Alysanne and the talk of Aegon and my father wishing for a betrothal and for Naerys to still be my heir… I realized it didn’t matter. But as long as I am crown prince and I can push any talk of betrothals… Perhaps I can give my children, give Naerys, a chance at a life and love not decided for her.” He trembled slightly and Arianne wondered if it was the wind. “And now to think that Alysanne could still be with us. That my baby girl could still be smiling and laughing down in the gardens, that Naerys would still be able to see. If someone took that away from her, from us… I cannot forgive that and I refuse to be powerless to protect them again.” 

Arianne stood next to Jon and patted his back gently. “You will make a good king, Jon, I know you will. And I swear, if you daughters were infected purposefully, the perpetrator will not go unpunished.” 

—

“Have you found anything?” Jon asked when they reconvened in his solar the next day. 

Ser Renly, Ser Podrick, and Ser Loras had gone over everything they could in the archives, getting the help of Lord Theon, Lord Bran, and Maester Uther. They had spent all night and all the men appeared exhausted, save for the Northern lord who looked angry more than anything else. Sansa and Arya had joined them, both women with dark circles under their eyes and rubbed raw from crying. 

“We have,” Lord Theon said, shaking his head. 

“And?” Sansa asked quietly. 

“I’m sorry, Sansa,” Lord Theon said, gently. “There are records of a blanket sent by House Baelish for the girls. It is the only item given from the Vale for the past three months prior to the girls getting sick.” 

“I tested the blanket myself, your grace,” Measter Uther said to Jon. “All of the girls' belongings had been replaced so it would be safe for the other children of the keep to return. The blanket had been kept because we were attempting to create a new one, but… I tested the fabric. There were specks of blood upon the fabric. And I tested it and exposed it to a group of mice. They…” The older man bowed his head. “Forgive me, your grace, for not noticing sooner.” 

Sansa stood, covering her mouth and, once more, Arianne’s heart broke for her. Jon went to his wife and held her to him, pressing gentle kisses to her hair as they all looked away to give them all a moment of privacy. After she seemed to recover, they all looked to the crown prince and his wife.

“What would you have us do, your grace?” Maester Uther asked. 

“Report your findings to my father,” Jon ordered. “There is no way this was an accident. Someone, most likely from House Baelish, used an underhanded method to hurt the royal family, to  _ kill  _ a member of the royal family. This was not just a death, this was an assasination. We need to get Lord Baelish and his son to come to the Red Keep, but I doubt they will come if they believe they are to be tried for their actions.” 

“Then what do you suggest?” Aegon said. 

“There’s more, your grace,” Maester Uther said. 

“What is it?” Viserys asked. 

“Princess Daenerys has been in contact with the Vale,” Lord Bran said. “She seems to destroy the letters, but her maid has admitted to receiving correspondence for the princess with the seal of a mockingjay.” 

“Gods,” Lady Margaery said with a gasp. 

“Alert my father of this as well and have more guards placed around my aunt,” Jon said. He looked to Viserys. “I’m sorry, Uncle, but I cannot let this go.” 

The older Targaryen shook his hand. “I would not ask you to.” 

—

“Is Father coming to the Red Keep?” Daemon said as Arianne tucked her youngest son in. Olyvar was already asleep and had pronounced the previous year that he was too old to be tucked in, but Arianne’s youngest was still happy to have her put him to bed. 

“Yes he is, my sweet boy,” Arianne said, brushing her son’s hair from his face. “Your father is coming and he is bringing with him Ser Renly’s niece and her children.”

“To protect them?” 

“Yes, Daemon, to protect them,” she replied. “They have lost someone very precious to them, so remember your courtesies and be kind to them when they come. The children are practically babies and must be treated with care. I can trust you with that, right?” 

Daemon nodded. “I will help Father protect them,” he said. “Because I wish to be a knight just like Father.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yes, Uncle Oberyn already says I am the best swordsman of my age.” 

Arianne smiled, holding back a laugh. It was true that her son was well skilled, but he still had a long way to go. “You are the perfect knight, my little prince.” 

“Do you think I can come and protect Princess Naerys when I am older?” 

“Would you like that?” 

Her son was quiet as he seemed to think over his answer, his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “I think I would like to serve a princess as kind as Princess Naerys. She is good and gentle, but she needs someone to protect her.” 

“Just because she is a princess,” Arianne said. “It does not mean she needs protection. She will be queen some day and deserves respect, and more than protection, she needs trust.” 

“Then I shall be her friend as you and Princess Rhaenys and Sansa are friends and I shall give her support as Father supports you and care as Grandfather gives Grandmother.” 

Arianne smiled. “Does that mean you want to marry the sweet princess?” 

“I don’t know,” Daemon replied. “She seems to like Prince Jaehaerys the best, but he isn’t a better swordsman than me.” 

“As long as you are happy, my little prince,” she said kissing his brow. “As long as you are happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Margaery POV next!


	42. Margaery II

When they were released from the private counsel, Margaery went to the garden and to her roses. She sat before them and felt bile rising to her throat. 

No matter her jealousy of Sansa’s many children, of the other women of the keep having more than one, she had never once wished her pain or burden upon anyone. 

However, her children had been taken before they could share the air she and Aegon breathed. They had not been taken by another, had not been taken due to someone’s ill will, had not been taken by one she thought a friend. 

How could Daenerys do this?

How could she so willingly put a child in danger, put all the children in danger?

It was only by the grace of the gods that the fever had not spread so violently. 

Margaery could recall the chaos of the keep once it was announced that the twins had come down with dragon fever. She could remember clutching Jaehaerys to her as he asked her what was wrong, as he begged to be with Naerys and Alysanne so he might protect them. 

Margaery has gone with her family, nieces, Daenerys, and good mother to the Reach where they might be safe from the sickness. She could remember holding little Lydia in her arms as the girl struggled and screamed for her mother. The poor thing had screamed and cried herself to exhaustion as Elia held Celia, trying to calm the quieter girl as she cried softly into her grandmother’s neck. 

Daenerys has been in that carriage. She had been there and watched as those precious girls fell apart at the sudden departure from their mother. She had kept letters from Jon so that he almost missed his chance to say goodbye to Alysanne. 

She had caused all this heartbreak and tragedy and still acted as though she were above it all, as though she deserved to be a mother to the girls whose sister she had so heartlessly taken. 

Alysanne. 

Sweet Alysanne. 

Sometimes when she was passing the training yard, to take Jaehaerys to his lessons, sometimes she could still hear the girl’s bright laughter. 

_ Aunt Margaery! _

She could recall riding with the girl sitting in front of her on the saddle, grinning up at her and begging that she be taken to the Reach to learn how to hawk. 

She had never even experienced life outside the Red Keep, King’s Landing. She had never experienced falling in love and being loved in that way. She had been a child. A precious girl who had so much life ahead of her, taken by petty greed by someone who refused to let go of something that was not hers. 

Margaery stroked the petals of one of her roses and wept. Her niece had not been born from her body, but she felt the loss just as keenly. 

Aegon knelt down next to her and held her gently in his arms, stroking her hair until she had cried to exhaustion. He picked her up carefully and carried her to their rooms where they both might mourn more privately. 

—

Margaery felt sick as she sat across from Daenerys in the tea room. Jon had told them they could not rouse her suspicion as any other evidence they might find could be destroyed if their good aunt learned of their suspicions. 

The woman sitting across from her… How could she be so calm knowing that the life of a  _ child  _ was a weight upon her conscious? How could she act as though she had nothing to do with the death of an innocent little girl? How could she act as though she had any right to be near the father of the child she helped murder?

“Margaery?”

“Yes?” She looked up and realized that the other woman had been talking. “Oh, forgive me Dany. Could you repeat that, I was just thinking of something Aegon said we needed to do tonight.”

Daenerys didn’t seem pleased that Margaery had not been listening to her, but sighed regardless. “I was saying how annoying it was that Princess Arianne is trying so hard to push her youngest son upon little Naerys.”

“Oh?” Margaery replied. 

She of course thought Jaehaerys and Naerys were a better fit for each other, but that was also because of the obvious care and companionship formed between the two children. It was obvious to everyone that her son greatly cared, and even loved, his precious cousin. It had stopped being about the crown a long time ago and had begun to be about her son’s happiness. If he began to show his favor to some other girl once he was older, Margaery would not keep him away from her as the king had tried to separate her from Aegon. 

“It is quite tiresome,” Daenerys replied. 

“I think he is a perfectly charming for a boy his age,” Margaery said. “Perhaps a little confident, but even Jaehaerys boasts such a thing. A friendship between them surely shouldn’t be discounted.”

“Friendship often leads to other things,” Daenerys said, waving her hand as though to brush away Margaery’s comment. “He takes too much after his mother, I do not think it proper.”

Margaery narrowed her eyes in confusion. She had always felt that Prince Olyvar took more after his mother in personality. Prince Daemon seemed more like his father in attitude. The only way the youngest Dornish prince seemed to take after his mother was his…

“I believe he takes more after his mother’s appearance,” she said slowly. 

How could she have been so blind to Daenerys’ faults? How could she have not seen the woman beneath the facade of friendship that had been extended since they were girls? How could she have been so blind?

This is the woman who had comforted her at every loss and yet here she stood heartless to the loss she had inflicted upon others and rejecting a boy for his Dornish appearance. 

“It would be better if he remained in Dorne, he does not belong in the Red Keep, much less by little Naerys. She already has her more Tully looks going against her.”

Margaery stiffened and stood from her seat. 

“Margaery?”

“Forgive me,” she said quickly. “I just recalled that I was supposed to take Jaehaerys and Naerys out from their lessons today. Excuse me.”

She left her once friend behind and made her without once looking back. 

—

Sometimes Margaery wondered if one of her children would have been a girl, a little girl with her hair and Aegon’s eyes. A little girl named Rhaella or perhaps Rose. A girl with silver hair and green eyes. A little girl she would have doted on and who would have had Aegon wrapped perfectly around her little finger. A little girl that Jaehaerys would have protected just as much as Aegon and Jon protected Rhaenys, as much as her own brothers protected her. 

Five or three or two… that’s how old her babes would be if they had lived, if they had not left her before they could properly form. Her sweet children, her sweet roses. She would have loved them and would have gladly lost the crown again and again, lost everything of status, if it meant she would be able to hold and kiss them. 

She knew that Aegon rarely prayed anymore, his prayers so often unanswered. He would always withdraw a little, her husband, whenever a child that could have been was lost. It was not because he blamed her, no. Her sweet husband blamed himself, blamed his damned blood and feared that it was his own fault. That if he had been more Dornish perhaps…

But they could never know for certain. 

“Aunt Margaery,” Naerys said, clinging to her skirts. 

Margaery strokes the girl's hair. “Yes, my darling?”

The girl’s face was pure innocence and happiness. How could anyone wish to dampen it? “Aunt Margaery,” she continued. “I wish to make a flower crown for Jaehaerys’ nameday, like the one you made for Uncle Aegon two years ago. Can you help me with the colors?”

Margaery smiled after the little girl. “Of course. Do you wish for me to help you with the weaving too?”

Naerys nodded quickly. “Yes,” she said. “Mother and Father day that everyone is a king or queen on their nameday, so I want to make Jaehaerys a crown?”

“Is Jaehaerys to be your king then?” Margaery laughed. She wondered if she had been this innocent at that age. 

Naerys nodded again. “For his nameday, at least.”

“Alright,” Margaery said, taking her niece’s hand. “I shall show you how to make one out of fabric and watered wood, that way Jaehaerys can have it for longer than a day.”

Naerys was practically skipping as they went and Margaery smiled. She squeezed Naerys’ hand gently, wishing she didn’t have to let go. 

—

Margaery watched from her seat at the high table as her son and niece danced, laughing and giggling with one another. The crown of fabric flowers was begging against her son’s blond hair. He grinned at Naerys, lifting her as best he could in a spin. 

I just want him to be happy,” she said to her husband softly. 

Aegon smiled gently at her and brought her hand to his lips. “And he will be, my love. He will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Margaery needs some hugs. A lot of them. 
> 
> It will be a Sansa or Jon chapter next week. Things are starting to reach a head and I hope you guys like where this goes!


	43. Sansa VI

Jon’s hand rested on the small of her back as his other hand held hers. Sansa rested her head upon her husband’s chest and closed her eyes as she got lost in the music. He let his head fall against the top of her own and she basked in his warmth, his closeness. 

When she was a little girl, she had only ever dreamed of being this happy with her husband. She had wanted to have a marriage like her parents, a love built stone by stone as the days, weeks, years, and decades went by. 

When she was betrothed and married to Jon, she had thought there was little chance for it. Her husband had been so distant, yet she could see that he loved their daughters. Even if he could never love her as her father loved her mother, she thought, at least he loved their children and cared for them. Loved children who were born from her body and suckled at her breast. Her sweet babes. Girls he treasured even if most men would have long expected a boy by this point in their marriage. 

But now…

Now, despite the tragedy in their lives, she would not trade one moment to be away from her husband. She would not regret the time she was able to have with Alysanne. She would not regret this child formed in love that grew now in her belly. 

Jon kissed her cheek as he continued to make their way around the dance floor. 

“Are you getting dizzy?” he asked gently. 

She shook her head, not letting her head move from its treasured spot. “I could spend the entire night in your arms,” she said softly. 

“You shall need to rest,” he chuckled. “I’m sure the babe would be very cross that I did not let you rest, Sansa.”

She smiled, opening her eyes slightly. “Then perhaps I shall tire myself until you must carry me to bed.”

“I would not be able to deny you such a thing, my love.”

She warmed at his words. “I think the girls might need your assistance in that. It appears that Naerys shall dance the night away.”

Jon chuckled. “Aye, that she will. I fear I might not get a dance in. She is as popular as you were in the first ball I saw you attend.”

“You remember such a time?” she asked. 

“I remember every second I have spent with you, dear wife, even when cousin was the only title I could afford you.”

Sansa lifted her head and smiled up at him. “Perhaps I shall find the energy for dancing later on tonight.”

His slow smile grew as did his darkening eyes. “I shall not reject such an offer, Sansa.”

“And I shall not deny you, Jon.”

Her husband pressed a deep kiss to her lips as they continued to dance, their steps more lively than before. 

—

Lydia had already been put to bed prior to the nameday feast starting. The sweet little girl was in one of her angry dreams, her face scrunched up in annoyance, looking very much like her father, and her hands balled up in little fists. It usually took a few seconds of Sansa stroking her hair before she fell properly into a peaceful sleep. 

Sansa held little Celia who had been allowed to stay up later. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, trying desperately to stay awake as she rested her head on Sansa’s shoulder. 

“Not tired,” she grumbled, although her body betrayed her words as she grew heavy with sleep. “Not tired.”

Sansa held the back of her head as she laid her second youngest into her bed and covered her with her blankets. “It’s time to sleep, my lovely,” she said gently. “And tomorrow we shall break our fast with a nice spread of meat and eggs.”

Celia smiled. “Eggs.”

Jon chuckled as Sansa placed a kiss to Celia’s cheek and she turned to help Jon set Naerys to bed. Sansa straightened and went to her eldest’s bed and pulled back the covers so Jon could set her down. 

“Did you have a good day, sweet girl?” Jon asked. 

“Mm,” she hummed before yawning. She rubbed her eyes and stretched, her fingers wiggling as she did so. “Mother?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“Could you sing me a lullaby? The one about Alysanne?” She held onto her doll and pressed it to her cheek. 

“Of course, Naerys,” she said gently as Jon took her hand in his.he squeezed it gently as she began to sing. 

_ Sing me a song of a lass that is gone _

_ Say, could that lass be I? _

_ Merry of soul she sailed on a day _

_ Over the sea to Skye _

Sweet Alysanne. Oh her sweet Alysanne….

_ Billow and breeze, islands and seas _

_ Mountains of rain and sun _

_ All that was good, all that was fair _

_ All that was me is gone _

Jon hummed beneath her singing, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of her hand, giving her strength and comfort. 

_ Sing me a song of a lass that is gone _

_ Say, could that lass be I? _

_ Merry of soul she sailed on a day _

_ Over the sea to Skye _

Naerys smiled, having pulled up the covers to her chin. “Alysanne will always be with me, Mother,” she said. “Father and Uncle Bran said so. That means she’s with you too.”

Sansa smiled sadly, happy for a brief moment that her daughter could not see her tears. She wiped them away quickly before kissing Naerys on the top of the head. “That’s right, my darling. Now, go to sleep.”

Naerys yawned. “Night night, mother.”

“Goodnight, my darling.”

—

Sansa sighed, as she curled up, pressing her brow into his shoulder. Jon was the same, his face against her neck, his breath like fire against her skin, spreading against her as heat began churn in her belly. 

Jon’s thrust were slow and deep, and Sansa sighed. She stroked his back, her fingers dragging against his damp skin. 

“Sansa,” he groaned. “Sansa.”

“Yes,” she whispered, feeling herself rise. “Yes.”

“So close,” he begged. 

“Now,” she moaned. “Now.”

Jon sheathed himself and spilled. 

Sansa sighed as they sank into the bed together in utter completion. She dragged her knuckles across his back as Jon sighed in relief against her. 

“Is the babe okay?” Jon asked. He rolled them onto his back, still inside her.

She was showing a little more now, but her belly wasn’t so big that she could not lie down upon it. “The babe is fine,” she said softly. “Maester Uther said that it would soon be fine to announce the pregnancy to the public soon.”

Jon grinned and kissed her. “I cannot wait,” he said. “I hope to show you off to the entire people, show our love and our family.”

She smiled at him and pressed another kiss to his lips. 

—

Sansa embraced the sobbing Shireen after Renly had brought her family and Waymar into the city and the Red Keep. Margaery has come to help with her and the children as well. 

“I am so sorry,” Shireen cried softly. “I know that you will be caught up in a scandal.”

“Family, duty, honor,” Sansa said firmly. “You and your children are our family, Shireen. I do not fear a scandal for you fled in fear for the lives of your children. You are safe here. Your uncle and your father would not wish for anything to happen to you either. You shall be protected.”

“Your grace,” Ser Loras came. 

“What is it?”

“Lord Baelish and his son have come to the Red Keep. It appears they used the main road as opposed to the more round about way than Ser Waymar took Lady Shireen and the children.”

Sansa’s heart dropped into her stomach. The two Baelish lords were there, the two who had taken her Alysanne away... They were here. The reason she had lost her daughter… 

They were here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter. However.... things are about to get worse.


	44. Elia III

“Claim they insulted you, Elia,” Arthur said as he walked quickly beside her. “Claim insults and I shall run them through with my sword, no one would speak against you.”

A smile twitched against Elia’s lips as they walked to the entrance of the Red Keep. She had told the king and queen that she would be the person to  _ welcome  _ the two members of House Baelish into the Red Keep. She was still a high enough rank to not be an insult, but she was neither the king or queen or crown prince, so there would be an implied one. Besides, she wished to assess these men, these men who would dare harm a child under her protection, her grandchildren. 

She would not stand for such a thing and she would not allow them near Jon and his family. 

“I fear that I cannot,” she said plainly. “We do not know their scheme or if it is already in place. We must be careful, for an animal might still cause damage even after it loses its head.”

“Even so, I do not like that you are meeting with them alone.”

“I am with your, Arthur,” she said, setting her hand on the crook of his arm. “I fear nothing when you are by my side.”

“I am getting too old for such heated glances, my princess.”

Elia laughed and squeezed her lover’s arm lightly. “I can tell you with great certainty you are not.”

The tips of Arthur’s ears turned red and Elia smiled as they continued on to the entrance of the keep. 

“Forgive the lackluster reception,” Elia said as she caught sight of the two Valemen. She had never liked Petyr Baelish. The way he always seemed to skulk about and make himself a nuisance as he attempted to ingratiate himself into conversation. She knew little of his son, but Arya and Sansa had mixed responses to jinx although it was obvious that Sansa only spoke positively to be kind. “You arrived at such a short notice that I was the only one without anything scheduled.” Another lie, but they need not know that. 

The two bowed to her. “It is our fault,” the elder Baelish said. “We had to make haste for time is of the essence.”

“Forgive me for wondering why you are here,” Elia said, feigning confusion. Oberyn would be on the floor laughing at this point had they all been children. He was never good at keeping a straight face, especially around her. “I have heard of the ravens stating that Lord Arryn has passed, but that does not explain why the two of you are here.”

“That is why we are here, your grace,” the younger Baelish said. “It appears that your niece’s husband kidnapped Lady Shireen and her children from the Eyrie.”

“My good nephew kidnapped a girl and her children?” Elia asked. “That does not sound like him.” So they were unaware of any of the letters Lord Robin had sent Ser Renly or Sansa. 

“I am afraid so, Princess,” Littlefinger said. “We had hoped that he had come here since his wife and sons were staying in the Red Keep.”

“If you believe they are coming this way, perhaps they have yet to arrive. If they are indeed traveling, then we shall send some soldier’s out to find them.”

“That is all we ask, your grace.” Littlefinger bowed and Elia heard Arthur growl beside her. The two men before her looked like snakes in the grass ready to strike. 

—

People often looked to Elia as a mother, even when she was not their own. While Jon kept a respectable distance, he came to her when he needed advice, even as a child, as though he could not trust Lyanna with his questions. There was Aegon and Rhaenys. There was Margaery, sweet Margaery who Elia held tenderly in her arms and helped plant the roses. 

Elia was a mother. She knew what motherhood looked like. 

It was not too obvious to anyone who was not looking. However, Elia had seen a similar glow in Sansa three times before and knew she was not mistaken. 

The Northern girl had not made an appearance around the two Baelishes and Elia could not and would not judge her for it. Jon has kept himself scarce as well. Margaery and Aegon has been the ones to properly greet them as Rhaegar was busy doing other, only slightly, more important things. Margaery had regarded them with every ounce of grace, but Elia could see her hand recoil at the touch of the snakes. Aegon stiffened, but both remained calm and dutiful. 

Elia went to help Sansa with the children that night. Lyanna has begun to help, but she was not much of someone to tend to such things. 

“Are you going to announce it soon?” Elia asked after they had closed the door and began to pick up some of the toys the children had left over. 

Sansa smiled warmly and touched her belly. It was still relatively flat and unnoticeable in her full skirts, but when she held her hand to her stomach, it became more obvious. “In a week or so,” she replied. “Maester Uther thinks I shall be out of the danger zone by then and I will be more likely to carry the babe to term.”

“I am so happy for you,” Elia said, tucking Sansa’s hair behind her ear. 

“Do you hope for a boy or a girl?”

“I…” Sansa chewed her lip carefully. “If it were a boy… if this babe were a boy then they would become Jon’s heir and Naerys would be secure from being forced to carry out any duty upon the Iron Throne. But if this babe is a girl… I would still want them. I would want and love them so dearly.” She sighed. “I know it is the duty of women to provide their husbands with sons, but…”

“But nothing,” Elia assured her. “It matters not to a woman if their child is a boy or a girl. We shall love them regardless.”

“Thank you,” Sansa said softly. “I know Jon would not care, but the king…”

“This is your child, you and Jon’s. It does not matter what the king thinks of it. If you have a son, that’s wonderful. If you have a daughter, the Naerys will make a wonderful queen some day.”

Sansa smiled warmly at that. 

—

“Are not going to look into them?” Elia demanded. 

“They are serving a purpose,” Rhaegar said, calmly. “We cannot act rashly.”

“ _ Purpose _ ?” Elia repeated. “What could they possibly do to earn your loyalty?”

“You confuse my wording, Elia,” Rhaegar said as he continued to work, scratching notes onto his papers with a quill that had seen better days. “Lord Baelish is married to the grandmother of the infant Lord of the Eyrie. We cannot upset him.”

Elia opened her mouth and laughed harshly, her brow furrowed. “We have evidence that they might be the reason our Alysanne is dead and you do not wish to investigate?”

Rhaegar paused then and looked up at her. “ _ Our _ ?” he asked. “I think you’re confused, Elia. Alysanne isn’t your granddaughter. She was  _ mine. _ ”

Elia stepped back in shock, her mouth open in horror. His? His! How dare he? Alysanne was hers, just as much as she was Rhaegar and Lyanna’s. She had carried that sweet girl in her arms for many nights when Sansa was put to sleep with Lady Jeyne beside her holding Naerys. She had been there when Alysanne began to walk, run, laugh, dance, sing, climb, fight. 

Elia had been there for it all, but where had Rhaegar been? At least Lyanna had taken some interest in the girls where Rhaegar had not. 

She stepped forward and swiped her arm along the king’s desk, pushing all his papers and quills and ink from the top and letting them spill onto the floor until his desk was clear. 

The king stood, his violet eyes like fire as he glared at her, dark and dangerous. “Do not presume your power, Elia.”

“Do not presume my love and affection for those girls for you will miscalculate it every time. Those girls are  _ my  _ grandchildren, even if they come from Lyanna’s son. Those girls are mine, just as much as Elia and Jaehaerys are mine.”

“Get out.”

“You are letting too much injustice run rampant within your own court, Rhaegar. You have allowed Danaerys to nearly ruin our relationship with the North as well as your son’s marriage. You have allowed Olenna Tyrell to mistreat Margaery, who carries the name of House Targaryen now. You have allowed for House Baelish to come here and act as though they have done nothing wrong when you have a young mother and her sweet children seeking sanctuary under your protection!”

“Do not presume my thoughts or my plans, Elia,” the king growled. 

“I can only presume if you will not speak to me, Rhaegar! All we can do is presume if you do not tell us what you are planning! It is why our marriage did not work, it is why your sons long for your praise, it is why Rhaenys seeks so little of you. We are your family, Rhaegar, talk to us!”

“You are not my wife and I do not answer to you!” Rhaegar roared, but Elia did not flinch. 

“No, Rhaegar,” Elia said stiffly. “I am not your wife. I knew from the moment we married that you would not love me, it was not in your nature to love as you were expected.” His gaze grew darker as she spoke. “All I wanted was to be your friend and someone you could confide in. But you could not even respect me in that capacity. I love your children, Rhaegar. I love the little ones too. And if you will not protect them, then I will.”

—

“Mother, I can hold him,” Aegon said, coming up behind her and placing a hand on her back. “I am his father and I can carry him to bed. I should have sent him to it an hour ago.”

Elia chuckled softly and stroked her grandson’s silver hair and pressed a feathery kiss to it. “I shall do it, my love,” she said tenderly. “He is getting so big so quickly and I shan’t be able to do it for as long as you will. Let me hold my grandson for as long as I can.”

Aegon smiled and kissed her cheek. He might look like his father, but Aegon has Rhaella’s smile, soft and tender and true. “I shall walk with you, for even now I miss when you could carry me as you are my son.”

Elia smiled at her precious boy as they walked to Jaehaerys’ room together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elia is an actual queen!


	45. Aegon I

“I yield,” Aegon grunted as he blocked one of Jon’s blows. His brother was pale and his cheeks had sunken in slightly, the skin under his eyes were dark as though he had not slept well in a while. 

Even so, he was being aggressive, too aggressive to be in a more lucid stare. His blows during their spar were a little harder, a little wider. He didn’t have the same control over his sword like he usually did. He was like a caged animal waiting to be let out. Aegon has noticed that his younger brother was agitated before they went out to spar, in fact that was why Aegon had suggested it. However, he hadn’t been aware of how agitated Jon truly was until their swords met. 

Jon stumbles away from him, panting. He was trembling too, as though there was too much energy held within him and he needed to let it all go. 

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” Aegon said carefully. He did not wait for Jon to follow, knowing he would do so without anymore prompting. 

They got to their private changing room, because both men occasionally changed their clothes after sparring when they had to attend to more official duties.

Aegon sat on one of the benches and looked up at Jon carefully. “Talk to me. What are you thinking?”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Aegon,” Jon said, sitting down next to him. 

“I’m your older brother, I’m always worried about you.”

“You’re barely a year older than I am,” Jon huffed. 

“Which still makes me older.”

Jon laughed, but it rang hollow. “I just don’t like them here. I don’t like having to even breathe the same air as them. They killed my daughter, Aegon. They tried to kill Naerys too and they could not have calculated that the blanket wouldn’t have been shared between the children. I just… I feel so useless.”

“You aren’t useless,” Aegon began, but Jon shook his head. 

“I’m worried about Sansa. I don’t… She shouldn’t be stressed, not right now.”

Aegon understood immediately, but said nothing. What was the point in repeating the truth between them. He put his hand on Jon’s back. “You’re a good father, Jon, and you’re becoming a better husband every day. You are protecting your family the best you can, but you don’t have to do this alone. You have me and Renly, and Podrick, and Waymar now to help you.”

“Not Viserys?”

“He’s trying to keep Arya in check so probably not him. Honestly, out of everyone here she frightens me the most. But I suppose you have Bran and Theon as well.”

Jon chuckled. “I suppose.”

“You aren’t alone in this, Jon,” Aegon said sternly. “The Baelishes will pay. As will our aunt. They will not get away with what they have done, I promise you this.” Aegon Ser his elbows on his knees. “Let’s stay here for a moment, until you’ve calmed down.”

“Thanks, Aegon.”

He grunted in reply. There was nothing else to say. 

—

“What do you mean Father plans on doing nothing?” Aegon demanded after his mother shared her conversation with the king.

“It’s as I said,” she replied sadly, sitting next to her son on the settee. “Your father has no intention of getting involved. He says that he has plans and that he does not wish to upset the husband of the elder Lady Arryn, but at the core your father appears to plan on doing nothing to bring justice to their actions.”

“Is father insane?” Aegon said, standing. “A child is dead because of them and another blinded. Naerys could have died as well and all the other children of the keep could have been affected if things had gone any differently. How could Father sit back and do nothing? Surely he cannot be so heartless?!”

“Your father is not known to think of others when he makes his decisions, Aegon.”

That made him deflate and he sat back down next to his mother. He clasped her hand between his gently. It’s true. His father never really thought about how his actions would affect others. The king had not thought of the consequences of stealing away with Lyanna, all the lives that were lost, the humiliation of Aegon’s mother when she was set aside. 

Aegon had thought he had done better by not marrying Sansa before he ran away to Margaery. There had been pain, but not as much as his father had caused. Even so, Aegon knew the trouble he had caused and sometimes he felt as though it were his own fault that he and Margaery could have no more children beyond Jaehaerys. 

His mother seemed to sense his mood and rubbed gentle circles along his back as he went into thought. 

“We can’t allow them to leave yet as we still have evidence being gathered against them.” Aegon took a deep breath. “We also can’t let them near Lady Shireen or her children. I don’t trust them near any of the children and I especially don’t trust them around Sansa. Not now.”

His mother nodded and Aegon guessed that she knew the truth as well. “What do you suggest we do?”

Aegon chewed his lip as he thought. They needed some more evidence. Someone was going to slip. Someone was going to say the wrong thing at the right time. But how to ensure that someone would hear it?

“Have Daenerys be the one to treat with them,” he said slowly. “I shall have Margaery suggest it to her. She can say that Jon and Sansa are having some issues and they cannot focus on seeing to our guests as the crown prince and his wife should and that we trust her to do it. Lord Varys will have his little birds everywhere and some of the servants might be better able to glean some information from their discussions.”

“That might be all that we can do until we come up with a better plan. I shall speak with Lyanna on this and then perhaps Jon could say something to Daenerys. If it also came from Jon, she might not suspect anything.”

Aegon nodded and brought his mother’s hand to his lips and kissed it. They would let KoA more harm befall their family. 

—

“Grandmother, please,” Margaery’s voice trembled and Argon’s hand froze upon the knob, not turning it at all. “Aegon is doing his very best. There are things… some things have happened within the family that need to be taken care of. He is not mistreating you, he is simply busy.”

The supposed Queen of Thorns scoffed. “Your husband is not even the crown prince anymore. He hardly has anything to do. His brother does most of the work. Some even say that even if your husband had become the king it would have been Prince Jon who ruled.”

“Grandmother,” Margaery pleaded. “Aegon has duties he is fulfilling. Do not take your anger out on me or him.”

“Useless,” the old bat sneered. “His mother was always a weak willed person, no wonder she could only give the king two children.”

“Grandmother, that isn’t fair. Princess Elia is a strong and noble woman who is like a mother to all of us.”

“I have no doubt it is due to her Dornish blood that you’ve only been able to have Jaehaerys. The gods blessed you in that the boy looks Targaryen, even his skin is the proper color too.”

“Grandmother!” Margaery cried out, scandalized. 

Aegon opened the door abruptly. The two women startled and he could see his wife was near tears and the old hag was scowling. “I want you out of these rooms, Lady Olenna,” he said firmly. “I want you out of these rooms. You are not the queen and have no right to make your home within this keep and act as though your opinions matter.”

“Aegon,” Margaery said, standing. 

He shook his head. “My mother is Princess Elia Nymeros Martell. She is the descendant of two monarchs, Queen Nymeria and the Prince of Dorne, Mors Martell. I am a descendant of three including Aegon the Conqueror. If it were not for his invasion of Westeros your family of stewards would have never been granted the Reach or its riches.” The woman continued to scowl at him. “You are not even a Tyrell by blood. In truth if you had not raised such a weak willed son, you would have no power whatsoever among the Reachmen. I love you for your union to your husband. For that marriage eventually gave me Margaery, but do not think for one moment I will allow you to treat my wife or our son or my mother with such hostility.” He held his hand out to his wife and she came to him readily and Aegon returned his attention to the old woman before him. “My son has the blood of kings running through his veins, if he is destined for greatness do not be confused and think it is because of your blood for all your claimed title, you are no queen. You are simply a bitter old woman who feels slighted by House Targaryen because you were not given the title of princess by a marriage to Daeron Targaryen. I will not let your bitterness rot in my family. Once the festivities of my father’s coming nameday is over and request that you leave and not return until you are asked. I will not have you poison my family against their own flesh and blood due to your petty nature.” He turned to the door. “Loras,” he called. “Please escort your grandmother to her own rooms. I believe she is tired.”

Margaery squeezed his hand as the old woman was led out. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. He would not let anyone disparage his family like that, not when they had so many enemies now as it was. 

—

Aegon wasn’t always proud of being Dornish. 

When he was a child and began to understand how he and Jon were brothers and yet they did not share the same mother, how Jon’s mother was queen and her Aegon’s was not, he wished he had not been Dornish. 

He looked Valyrian for the most part, but his nose and the slight tan of his skin made it obvious that he wasn’t like his father or aunt or uncle. Even so, out of his brother and sister he was the one who took after their father the most. He was his father’s heir and Aegon felt that he was favored because he had the Targaryen look. 

He and Jon had fought so long and hard for their father’s approval. And if, for Aegon, that meant pushing himself away from his mother, pushing himself away from his Dornish heritage instead of embracing it like Rhaenys did. 

He was proud about looking more Valyrian. He was proud every time someone said he looked so much like his father. He felt vindicated. 

But he was a father now, a father and a husband. He would not raise his son to be ashamed of who he was. He would not raise his son to be ashamed of the Dornish blood that flowed through his veins. 

He would raise his son to be a better man than he was. He would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing about Aegon’s struggle with his heritage was hard to write because, as a white person, I don’t like putting words into POC’s mouths. I based some of his thoughts about what I know about my great grandmother who was half Cherokee and stories I have about her. She was very proud about being white passing (more so than her other siblings). She preferred spending time and talking about her white father and rarely ever talked about her mother, moving to a different state entirely so that no one would guess that she had Cherokee heritage. It was to the point that my grandfather hardly knew ANYBODY from that side of the family 
> 
> I wonder about her often and I often think about how hurt her own mother must have felt watching her daughter reject not only her culture, but her as a person.


	46. Jon VI

Sansa was curled slightly in on herself as Jon wrapped himself around her. 

His wife was breathing gently as she slept, the covers pulled around her to her chin, but her head bent and nose pressed against the furs. 

Jon had his arm around her, his hand resting on her belly. It was growing firmer and soon they would properly announce the pregnancy and begin to ready welcoming a new member of their growing family. 

Sansa had asked him earlier whether he would want a boy or a girl. In truth, he wasn’t sure. 

If they had another girl, he feared that he would cherish them more than his other daughters, feared that he might give all the love he longed to give Alysanne to a child who knew nothing of that loss and he did not wish to pressure his child to be anything that she was not. 

If the babe was a boy…

If the babe was a boy then Naerys would be free to do as she wished, as much as any princess of House Targaryen could. The boy would become Jon’s heir and he would be the future king of Westeros. A king with ties to many great houses and the ability to form another connection through marriage to a wife that would not be used against him in his authority. 

But Naerys would lose her place within the line of succession. 

She was so young and Jon was unsure if she understood completely what was expected of her in the future. He was unsure if this was something she longed for or if she was being raised to simply expect it. What if a son took away the protection afforded her despite her blindness?

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Sansa breathed softly, her hand coming to rest on top of Jon’s. “Go to sleep.”

“Did I wake you?” Jon asked, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her neck. 

“I’m not sure. I simply woke.” She wiggled slightly and pressed her back against him. 

He groaned slightly. “You’re going to be the death of me.” Jon pulled her a little closer so she could feel what she did to him. 

Sansa giggled, the sound muffled by the furs. “I’m too tired tonight.”

Jon grunted and pressed his face to the. Are of her neck. “Then I shall let it flag naturally then.”

Sansa snorted. “I know you can take care of it yourself, Jon.”

“Aye, but that would pull me away from you for a couple minutes and I don’t want to let go of you.”

His wife hummed as she rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand. “You’re going to speak with her tomorrow?”

“Aegon thinks it’s the best way to make sure Alysanne gets justice.”

Sansa pulled her hand up and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “Be safe.”

Jon kissed her neck again. “I will.” He listened as Sansa fell back to sleep. “I’ll protect you. I promise.”

—

Jon felt nauseous at the way his aunt brightened when she saw him enter her solar. It was as though seeing him were somehow a delight, as though he had not made his distaste of her presence well known. 

“It’s so good for you to visit me, Jon,” she said, taking his hands in hers and kissing his cheek. It took everything in Jon to not flinch away, to not recoil in disgust at any of her touches. 

“Shall we sit, Daenerys?” he asked, pulling his hand away and motioning towards her tea table and the two chairs around it. 

“Of course,” she said, linking her arm with his. 

Jon walked them briskly to the table and helped her sit. 

This was for Alysanne. This was for Alysanne. 

This was to get justice for Alysanne. He had to stay strong at least for this. 

“What is it you wanted to talk to me about, Jon?” Daenerys said sweetly. Jon realized that she had applied makeup to her face and had worn a dress from Essos, one of the tighter gowns that bid barely anything at all. 

“In truth, I have a favor to ask if you and I hate that I must burden you with it.”

“Oh?” She leaned forward and Jon kept his gaze towards her eyes. “How might I be of assistance?”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Lord Petyr Baelish and his son Lord Allyn have arrived to the Red Keep in search of Ser Waymar and Lady Shireen Arryn and her children.”

“I have seen them around the keep, yes,” she replied. “But I had not been aware of their reasoning for coming.”

Jon nodded. He could not tell if that was a lie or not but it didn’t matter. “I had hoped that Sansa would be able to entertain them since she knows Lord Allyn so well, but she has found herself in a dark mood recently and I cannot put up with such bleak shifts of temper and think it would be rude to ask our guests to.”

A lie, a horrible lie and it made his stomach churn at the words. 

“I can hardly believe that your wife isn’t up to the task,” Daenerys folded her arms and rested against them, pushing her body up, but Jon kept his gaze level. 

“I was surprised as well,” Jon lied. “However I think the Baelishes would feel more welcome if they were properly seen to by a princess who was a true Targaryen. Forgive me if I ask for too much, but I felt that you would be the best person to represent our family”

Daenerys brightened even more. “Of course, Jon.” She placed her hands over his own. “I would do anything to put you more at ease.”

Jon smiled at her, but inwardly, he recoiled. 

—

“How are Lady Shireen and the children?” Jon asked. 

Waymar and the Arryns had been placed in a very private wing of the keep with very few people allowed to go in and out. Lady Payne was the only person without a rank who could enter in. 

“She is heartbroken. She does not speak to anyone save the children and I fear that if they were not with her, she would stop speaking altogether. Luckily, Mya Stone makes sure she is tended to.”

“And the children?” 

“They’re confused and frightened and so very young. I doubt they will remember this and I hope that they do not, even though I dearly wish that they would both hold memories of their father.”

“Has there been any word from Lord Stannis?” Jon asked. 

“I have encouraged Lady Shireen to write to her father, but she has not done so to my knowledge. Ser Renly has come to see her often, but I doubt he has written to the Baratheon lord.”

“She’s so very young.”

Waymar sighed, but gave a firm nod. “I have no doubt she will be asked to marry again. She’s the heir of Storm’s End unless Ser Renly decides to have children. She only has one son who shall inherit the Eyrie and I doubt that Lord Baratheon would be pleased to have a second girl be the heir.”

“She is a widow now and a mother too.”

“Some would argue that her children needed to be raised by those who are of the Vale and she might be asked to give up her children if she remarried.”

Jon scowled. “I will do what I can to protect her and her children’s interests.”

Waymar nodded. “Forgive me for placing so much at your feet, considering what you are already trying to make right.”

Jon waved his hand. “I am to be king, one day. I need to do my duty to my people as well as my family. Besides. Justice for Robin Arryn will be given just as justice for my daughter will be as well.”

—

Jon leaned against the heart tree and closed his eyes, listening to the wind as he blew gently around him. 

_ Father… _

He shot up and opened his eyes. 

“Alysanne?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Jonsa needs to be protected but Shireen and her kids need all the hugs!


	47. Daenerys IV

Daenerys had been wary, at first, when Jon had approached her, but at the same time, she knew that he could never stay mad at her. They had known one another since they were children. They had been together for all their lives. They had a history that went far beyond his Northern wife’s arrival to the capital. 

She had dressed in one of her more revealing dresses, not so much that she would be thought of poorly if seen, but enough to leave little to the imagination. She had also painted her lips and drew in the darkness of her eyes to frame them and pinched her cheeks so that they might be more rosy upon his arrival. 

“It’s so good for you to visit me, Jon,” she said sweetly. She held his hands firmly and pressed her lips to his cheek. She could feel the heat of his skin melt into her as she stepped back. 

“Shall we sit, Daenerys?” he asked, pulling his hands away to motion towards her tea table. 

“Of course,” she replied, wrapping her arm around his, pressing her chest against his arm as he walked her to the table and helped her sit. She waited for him to sit across her before she spoke. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about, Jon?”

“In truth,” he began slowly. “I have a favor to ask of you and I had that I must burden you with it.”

“Oh?” she asked, leaning forward ever so slightly, as smile upon her lips. “How might I be of assistance?”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Lord Petyr Baelish and his son, Lord Allyn, have arrived to the Red Keep in search of Ser Waymar and Lady Shireen Arryn and her children.”

“I’ve seen them around the keep, yes,” she said slowly. She felt annoyed by their presence. She felt annoyed that they had come into her home and not treated her with any respect. Not given her any of the dues owed to her for her status. “But I had not been aware of their reasoning for coming.” How could a pathetic girl and her fatherless children have any authority over her in their concerns?

Jon nodded, seemingly happy that she was aware of the situation. “I had hoped that Sansa would be able to entertain them since she knows Lord Allyn so well, but she has found herself in a dark mood recently and I cannot put up with such bleak shifts of temper and think it would be rude to ask our guests to.”

Daenerys blinked. So there was something that the great Sansa Stark could not do? And it was not Margaery or Rhaenys or his mother or Elia that Jon had come to. No, he had come to her. 

“I can hardly believe that your wife isn’t up to the task,” Daenerys said, trying to keep her excitement from showing. She folded her arms underneath her breasts and saw Jon’s gaze waver for a slight moment. 

“I was surprised as well,” he said, leaning forward as though drawn closer to her presence. “However, I think the Baelishes would feel more welcome if they were properly seen to by a princess who was a true Targaryen.” He paused. “Forgive me if I ask for too much, but I felt that you would be the best person to represent the family.”

Daenerys’ smile broadened. “Of course, Jon,” she said, placing her hand over his own and squeezing it. “I would do anything to put you more at ease.”

—

It took everything in Daenerys to not bite Allyn Baelish’s head off. He was dismissive and rude and nothing like the compliment man in her letters. 

He and his father both constantly dismissed her presence as superfluous and unimportant. However, Jon had given her this duty and she would not shrug off the task he had given her. 

“You are here searching for Lady Arryn and her children, correct?” she asked. 

“We are certain they have come here,” Allyn Baelis said, waving his hand to all but dismiss her question. 

“And why would she come here? The only relative she has here is her sword swallowing uncle. Surely there are better places to hide. Perhaps she has gone North or to the Riverlands, or even Dorne, since you claim Ser Waymar is with them.”

“You truly can not be so foolish, girl,” Lord Baelish said, going through some documents. “This is where Ser Waymar’s family remains and the fool is too in love with his wife to do anything but gravitate towards her.”

“Perhaps he is not so much a fool,” she suggested. 

“Why, princess,” Allyn said with a smirk. “Are you trying to get rid of us? That’s hardly hospitable.”

Daenerys blushed horribly and the thought. He knew that Jon had asked him to do this, even if she had not said so, he knew that she would hardly socialize with them if not a direct request from the man she loved. 

“You need not do anything to help us, princess,” Lord Baelish continued as though his son had not spoken at all. He looked at her and smiled. “Your presence is a welcome distraction. A man can hardly think when he stands under the inspection of a beautiful lady.”

Daenerys smiled at him, lifting her chin. “You are too kind, my lord.”

He chuckled. “I speak the truth, princess. It is no wonder the crown prince watches you when he thinks no one is looking.”

Daenerys straightened at that. 

Did he? Did Jon look at her when she had not noticed? Surely she would have. But Jon was a man trained for battle, it was natural that she not notice his stealthy advances, especially when his wife’s brother, sister, and aunt were clearly present. 

Perhaps his marriage to Sansa Stark would soon be dissolved. That must be it. He has stayed with her out of loyalty to his wife because of the child they lost. There was no other reason for it. Perhaps once Alysanne had been dead and mourned for a year, Jon would set his wife aside and take her to his bed instead. The thought sent a thrill down her spine and a smile to her lips. 

—

Daenerys came across Naerys holding the cream egg as she walked down the hallway. She wasn’t being attended to and Daenerys could only guess that the maester was still giving her little tests to make sure she could walk around the keep unattended if she needed to. 

The girl stopped and looked up slightly, her unseeing eyes almost focused over Daenerys’ head. 

“Aunt Daenerys?” she asked. 

“Yes?” 

The girl huffed in slight relief. “Your bell is like Grandfather’s,” she said. “I wasn’t sure.”

Daenerys couldn’t deny that the skill she was developing would be useful, although Daenerys couldn’t imagine why it would be. “Where are you off to?” 

“I am to head to the Small Council chamber,” the girl replied. 

“That is quite a ways off,” she commented. 

Naerys smiled brightly. “Maester Uther thinks I’m ready and Grandfather wanted to look at my egg.” She held the cream colored thing up slightly although a little ways off from right in front of her. “We’re going to study dragons today and we want to see if any of the previous dragons had eggs like mine.”

“That sounds like fun,” Daenerys said. “Would you like me to walk with you?”

This girl was going to be the queen of Westeros one day and she and Jaehaerys would bring the Targaryens back to their former glory, until Daenerys gave Jon a son of course. Besides, when she married Jon, she would become this girl’s mother. She would have to get used to the strange little girl anyway. 

“Can you hold my egg for a bit?” she asked. “It’s getting a little heavy.”

“Would this be cheating for what the maester asked you to do?”

“Shhhh,” Naerys said, placing a finger to her lips as she smiled. Daenerys chuckled and hushed her back. “It should be okay,” she continued. “As long as you don’t help me find my way unless I get really lost.”

“Alright.”

Daenerys took the offered egg from the girl’s hands and it was ice cold to the touch, like stone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are steadily getting closer to the end of this first part of the story. I’m not sure how many chapters will be left of ASL before we get into PIS, but man. Things are going to get darker and more heavy from here on out.


	48. Arianne IV

“I see that you and Brynden have been spending more time together,” Arianne said with a smirk as she held onto her cousin’s arm. 

Rhaenys blushed. “It’s nothing like that.”

“I know you have no interest in what happened between a man and a wife, but that does not mean you can’t care for him.”

“I am not denying that I care for him, it just isn’t like that.” Rhaenys sighed. “I just… he is so good to Elia. I regret keeping her from him.”

“You were doing what you thought was best,” Arianne told her. “I refuse to allow you to feel shame for trying to protect yourself and your daughter. Even if Dorne is more progressive than most of Westeros when it comes to bastards, it isn’t as though Uncle Oberyn is the best example of a man letting the mother raise her child. It’s perfectly natural for you to be hesitant.”

“But—“

“No buts,” Arianne said, squeezing her cousin’s arm lightly. “Every man becomes a little different once he becomes a father, you can’t have known what he would be like.”

“That does not seem to have stopped you or Sansa or Margaery.”

“Yes, well, we’re all married so that is very different from your situation. Now, all that matters is that he respects you and the boundaries you place around him and Elia, as well as yourself. As long as he doesn’t pressure you into doing anything you do not wish, I shall not stop in my encouragement until you, yourself, tells me to stop.”

Rhaenys sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have just accepted his proposal.”

“Perhaps you should have. It would have made your father, the king, unreasonably angry, however that is most likely why I would have wanted you to accept it.”

That brought a smile to Arianne’s cousin’s lips. “Perhaps I should accept it now?”

Arianne stopped their walk in the gardens. “Has he proposed again?”

Rhaenys shook her hand. “No, but… perhaps I should tell him I would marry him if he asked again.”

Arianne turned and put her hands in her cousin’s. “Never accept something because you think it is expected of you. Brynden is a good man, and he is good to you. But he has… I do not want you to accept a marriage because you want to be kind when you do not have a desire to have carnal relations with him. It isn’t fair to him or you.”

“And Elia?”

“He seems to want to be a father to you even if you do not marry. Your father has little control over your marriage prospects now. I think you need to have an in-depth conversation with Brynden to sort out your priorities or else you would both enter the marriage with expectations doomed to fail. Can you do that, if not for you, for me?”

Rhaenys nodded and Arianne smiled, kissing her cheek before they continued to walk. 

—

Waymar was beneath her, his hands on her hips as she rode him slowly. 

When he had come back to her from the Vale, there had been some urgency. Waymar had worshiped her body like a man discovering water in the desert. He had brought her complete and utter satisfaction in their reunion, as though to apologize for not being by her side for so long. 

There were no hard feelings on her end, of course, but she would not deny him the satisfaction of her body or what ecstasy he brought her own. 

Now, however, things were far more loose and carefree. 

“Right there,” she sighed as he hit just the right spot. 

Waymar grunted beneath her and began to thrust his hips up again and again so he could hit her just right. “Gods, Ari.”

She hummed softly and put her hands on his chest. She pressed her lips to his, licking along the seam of his lips until they parted, slowly fighting for dominance. 

When she fell apart around him, Waymar shifted them both so that she was on his back and rutted into her until he reached his own completion. After a moment to breathe, Waymar pulled out and rolled them onto their sides. 

“I feel like we are getting old.”

Waymar huffed. “No, we are just the parents of two children. We simply don’t have the same amount of energy.”

Arianne smiled into his chest. “Perhaps,” she sighed. “I spoke with Rhaenys today. I wish there were more that I could do, but it is not fair for her or Brynden to enter a relationship where they both might have to give up a part of themselves to make the other happy.”

Waymar’s fingertips trailed along her spine and Arianne snuggled closer to him. “They’ll figure out what’s best for them.”

“And Shireen?”

“She’s a young woman who has shown that she can have children easily, her father will want her to remarry, especially to give him an heir for Storm’s End. For now, she is mourning the life she and Robin could have had. I think they were growing to love each other beyond their marriage that was arranged.”

“And now his children will not remember him,” Arianne said quietly. She could not imagine her sons never knowing her husband. It was a tragedy, the thought of it. “She must find someone who would not ask her to leave her children to be fostered by someone else. They are too young to be separated from their mother.”

Waymar kissed the top of her head. “Prince Jon and I are beginning to discuss options. It all depends on if Lady Shireen wishes to have any more children. By the time she becomes the lady of Storm’s End, perhaps her daughter might be able to take the Baratheon name if she has a cousin willing to take it as well.”

“Perhaps,” Arianne replied, snuggling closer to her husband’s warmth. “It depends on her. We must protect her from those who would use her children.”

“But of course. We shall let no harm befall her.”

—

“Princess,” a voice called behind her. 

Arianne froze and her two sons looked up at her in slight confusion. She smiled down at them, stroking their curls. “Go to the training yard,” she said. “I shall be with you soon.” Her boys did as they were bid and Arianne turned to see Allyn Baelish approach her. “May I help you?”

He bowed respectfully to her. “Your husband is the one who took our lady from the Eyrie and I merely wished to ask if you knew of his whereabouts.”

“Forgive me, my lord, but I have no idea where my husband is.” At that time of course. He could be anywhere within the keep. “If I receive a letter from him, I will be sure to inform you.”

“Are you so certain of his affection that you do not fear his proximity to another woman.”

Arianne huffed down a laugh. “You must have a low opinion of my husband if you think such words would sway me to your cause. I have complete faith in my husband and he has given me no reason to suspect his disloyalty.” She glanced over him. “You, however, I know very little of and have very little trust for you beyond the good word that Lady Sansa has given me.”

His nostrils flared ever so slightly at the name of the Northern woman. Interesting. 

“I hope that I shall prove to be worthy of your confidence, Princess,” the man said with another bow. 

“Perhaps. Time will tell.”

“I hope that it shall prove to be positive.”

“We shall see.”

He bowed again and left her in the hall. 

What a slimy little man. She did not care for his presence at all. She felt ill at the thought of him anywhere near her children or any of the other children in the keep. She would make sure to keep an eye on him. 

—

In three month’s time, the king planned a celebration for the end of the rebellion he and his wife caused. It was to celebrate the dawn of a new age. 

Arianne felt that it was pretentious and unnecessary, especially because he wished to celebrate it on Dragonstone where the first Targaryens landed. Soon he would move most of the court to visit the Targaryen ancestral home with a few invited guests. This, of course, would include the Baelishes. Waymar and Lady Shireen would stay behind as they continued to discuss what was best for the girl’s future. Arianne’s aunt would also stay behind to serve as regent. The king at least saw some sense in that his previous wife should not be made to watch the festivities that ended her marriage. Uncle Oberyn would also come to King’s Landing to help his sister. 

Arianne and her sons would go to Dragonstone at Lady Sansa’s request, wanting to have as many people between herself and the Baelishes and Daenerys. 

It was all the same for Arianne. Her youngest wished to spend more time with Princess Naerys and Arianne would not stop him. Even if nothing romantic came from the connection, one based on friendship would be equally advantageous to both their houses, righting the wrong of the king and his Northern wife. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting closer to the climax of part one of this series!!!! After that, there is going to be a time skip with all our favorite characters being older with the focus going to Naerys and the coming battle of the dawn! 
> 
> Also, Arianne and Waymar are goals. Sorry. I don’t make the rules 😘


	49. Viserys III

“I still think that if you wish to have a celebration, you should have it here,” Viserys told his brother plainly. In truth, he thought the idea was foolish and shouldn’t be executed. Celebrating a victory such as the one his brother wished to was foolish. It was an insult to all the families who took part in the rebellion, especially the Baratheons since it celebrated Rhaegar’s specific victory over Robert Baratheon. “Dragonstone is so far and there would be children traveling with us. And Naerys would be unused to the keep. She would have to be watched constantly, she is only barely getting used to wandering the Red Keep. You cannot expect her to be allowed to wander Dragonstone. Surely being here would be the better option.”

“It must be at Dragonstone,” the king said flatly. “Dragonstone was where our family first laid its foundations in Westeros, it was where dragons first touched the land and flew against the winds of the Seven Kingdoms. It is only right that we celebrate there.”

“You are celebrating the end of a rebellion you started. A rebellion that led to almost half of the major houses of Westeros to despise or distrust us and a rebellion that led to the death of so many. It was almost the end of our family as well. You left Elia and Aegon and Rhaenys unprotected and they were almost killed. The queen almost died giving birth to Jon. How can you celebrate your victory at the Trident when the rebellion was what made us almost lose everything? It is because of that turmoil that our mother could not survive her last birth. It… the rebellion is a song of death, surely you can see why it would be in poor taste to celebrate.”

“This shall be our rebirth, Viserys. Everything that our family had dreamed of at Summerhall shall be at Dragonstone. Our family is large and strong now. Our dragon must have three heads and we will be victorious against any and all that would stand against us or rise against our seven kingdoms.”

The way his brother spoke of it did not sit right with Viserys. “Please reconsider, Rhaegar.”

“It is what must happen, Viserys. One day, you will understand.”

“I will never understand,” Viserys tried to reason. “You do not tell me anything. I know that I have stepped away from my duties as your brother, but I am a father and husband now and I cannot understand why you would celebrate such loss, especially when it was by your own actions that such supposed triumph when it nearly cost you your children and Elia. I cannot understand it. I beg you, Rhaegar, explain it in such a way that I would understand.”

“You will understand one day, Viserys,” his brother said plainly. 

A part of Viserys hoped that he never would. 

—

“You and Alys do not have to come to Dragonstone,” Viserys said, sitting next to his wife on their bed as she fed their daughter. “In fact I beg you not to. She’s so young, I don’t even think she’s ready for traveling as she is now.”

Arya scowled at him. He knew it was supposed to look threatening, but it was hard to appear so when their daughter looked so peaceful at her breast. Besides there was no heat in her eyes which meant that she knew he was right. 

“I do not like the idea of leaving my sister alone with yours,” she said pointedly. 

Viserys chuckled and brushed his thumb along their daughter’s hair, smoothing an errant curl. “Believe me, I would not allow Sansa to be alone with my sister. In part because I feel that Sansa might bite her head off.”

Arya snorted and rocked their little girl when she made her own annoyance known. “And the Baelishes are going as well,” she said firmly. “Why in the seven hells is your brother taking them as well?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted. “The only good thing is that this allows for Lady Shireen and her children to have more opportunities to  _ not  _ be secluded into one area of the keep.”

“I suppose that is a good thing. I know it always helps me when we are on land when the children are so small. I can’t imagine what she feels like all cooped up when she isn’t even allowed to properly mourn her husband and father of her children.”

“Perhaps you could befriend her,” he said. “She is, after all, the widow of your cousin.”

Arya sighed. “If I was not expressing milk you sister and the Baelishes would feel my wrath,” she pouted.

Viserys kissed her cheek. “I think you would do it now if it weren’t for Sansa asking you not to.”

Arya sighed. “I also don’t want to leave her side,” she said, looking down at Alys as she made it known she was done eating. Arya shifted their daughter onto her shoulder and began to pat her back until she burped. “You should see how your brother looks at our children though. There’s so much annoyance. I would be happy if they all stay with me in King’s Landing.”

Viserys had noticed his brother’s gaze as well and his brother’s seemingly angry expression whenever Viserys was with his son and his two daughters. “Rhaegar has always been rather odd when it comes to children. I’ve never thought much of it. Besides he has not said anything and I prefer my children to not spend so much time with him more because I fear what he will say about me.”

“You do not feel guilty for leaving, Viserys,” his wife said firmly, holding his hand and grasping it tightly. “You did what was best for our family and no one should or will make you feel smaller for doing that. You are in no way in line for the throne any longer. A lot of tragedy would have to happen before that you did what you thought was best and I love you forever for it. Never feel ashamed of doing what you thought was best for our family.”

Viserys smiled and lifted his wife’s hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles. “I love you.”

She smiled at him. “I love you too.”

—

Aegon sat with Viserys as they watched Naerys play in the water with the maester. Both had decided to give Ser Renly a moment of rest so that he could spend time with his niece and her children. 

Viserys’ own niece was coming along rather well considering how little time had truly passed since she had lost her sight. It was a testament to how strong the girl was. It was truly the wolf’s blood in her. He doubted any Targaryen would have handled such a thing gracefully unless it was due to old age. 

“Margaery is pregnant again,” Aegon said softly.

Viserys glanced at his nephew and saw the redness of his eyes. He had been crying, not recently, but he had been crying. “Is she going to come to Dragonstone?”

“I tried to speak with my father but he refuses to let her stay here. I… I know that this will be like every other pregnancy, but sometimes I hope, I pray that things will be different. For her sake more than mine. I can’t keep watching her lose a part of herself every time it happens. And I know my father says I should just stop lying with her or find someone else. But I… I love my wife too much to even think of doing something like that and I do not want Margaery to think that I do not feel attracted to her anymore.”

“Perhaps this time will be different?” Viserys said. “Perhaps the gods will grant you another child. I know Margaery’s accident has been hard on her body ever since, but surely… perhaps this time will be different.”

Aegon nodded as he watched Naerys play. “Sometimes I don’t know why I pray anymore. The gods don’t listen. If they did, my mother would be queen now. If they did, Naerys would not be blind and Alysanne would still be here. If they did, my grandfather would have stopped being king before any of this happened.”

Viserys grimaced but nodded his head. “Sometimes it’s just nice to think that someone is listening.” He rubbed Aegon’s back. “Sometimes it helps to get it all out.”

Aegon nodded, carefully wiping away unshed tears as they continued to watch their niece. 

—

Viserys watched as Jaehaerys and Prince Daemon sparred. His nephew had seemed to take it upon himself to challenge the prince almost any time that he could. 

It was obvious that the Dornish prince had the advantage with being older and having handled a sword for a little longer than Jaehaerys had, but there were moments where they had equal footing and it appeared that Jaehaerys was taking the spar far more seriously than Prince Daemon was. 

For what it was worth, both boys were being rather decent sports about it, save for whenever Naerys was close by, then Jaehaerys seemed to turn absolutely red with embarrassment, as though Naerys could actually see his defeat. It was perhaps more embarrassing when she called out asking who had won and Prince Daemon would tell her that he was the one. She would congratulate the prince, a slight blush against her ivory cheeks. 

She would leave and Jaehaerys would demand a rematch. 

Viserys had advised his nephew to not allow himself to get so bothered by his losses. After all, they helped a person grow, but the boy would not see reason when it came to his inherent need to defeat the prince and gain Naerys’ well wishes. Viserys would speak to Aegon of it. It was not healthy, especially with how Rhaegar seemed to smirk at Jaehaerys’ constant attention for Jon’s heir. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viserys being the best of the older Targaryen brothers. 😤
> 
> Also, who should we hear from next? What do you guys think?


	50. Rhaenys III

Rhaenys walked arm in arm with Bryndon through the garden as Elia rushed ahead of them, playing with one the cats. Their daughter was beautiful, her father having braided her hair like Lady Ashara, who had fully enchanted the girl before she left to return to Dorne. Rhaenys knew the woman did not particularly like her, did not like how she constantly had refused Bryndon’s advances, but it was for the best. Rhaenys could not think otherwise. 

“I wish I could come with you to Dragonstone,” he said. “With you and Elia. But I know the king would rather I not be there.”

“She will miss you,” Rhaenys said softly. “Elia has grown used to you being close by. I don’t know what will happen when you have to return to Starfall.”

Bryndon chuckled. “I will miss her too, but perhaps, one summer, she can visit me and I can show her all the wonderful places that are hidden within the white stone.” He turned his gaze to her. “I will miss you as well, Rhaenys.”

She smiled at him but shook her head. “I’m sorry that I can’t… that I do not wish to marry you. I feel as though if I married you there would be expectations and no matter how much you protest this, I will still think it. And you deserve someone who can give all that to you, someone who loves you as much as you would love them and that cannot be me. I care for you, love you in my own way, but you want to have a full marriage, one of love and devotion that has a root in physicality that I cannot give you.”

He smiled at her sadly and kissed her hand. “You would still be the first to ever hold my heart. And though I would never force you, I understand your reservations. I ask, though, that you do not withhold yourself from happiness..”

“As long as you do the same,” she replied. Rhaenys smiled at him and turned to look at their daughter. “We may not make a good husband and wife, but I feel we make a great father and mother. Do we not?”

Bryndon looked at their daughter with pride. “That we do.”

—

Renly sat next to Rhaenys in the solar, sighing dramatically as he let himself sink into the chair. There was not even a speck of decorum in how he sat, his legs and arms spread wide and hanging from the sides. 

“You are being ridiculous,” Rhaenys said. “You are only packing. It’s not as though you have to do much in Dragonstone outside of what you usually do.”

Renly sighed again. “It’s not that. I just got word from my brother.”

“Is he asking about Lady Shireen?”

“If you mean has he asked me to find my niece and marry her, no. I have made it abundantly clear that I would not marry Shireen. She is far too young and deserves a husband who will love her in all the ways a husband should. I would only be able to love her as an uncle”

“Then what is it that is causing you to sigh so dramatically?”

“Instead of foolishly trying to push me to marry my niece, he has instead begun to send me possible marriage partners. A list of  _ eligible ladies  _ who are so very eager to make a connection with House Baratheon.”

“Poor Renly,” she said sarcastically. “Surely you could simply refuse and take the white.”

“I have thought about it,” he admitted. “However, I would wait until Jon becomes king. I would rather not serve someone like your father, full offense.”

Rhaenys chuckled. “Offense not taken. Surely you will find someone who appreciates your  _ circumstances _ .”

“Perhaps. But perhaps I was meant to never marry at all, it all feels rather useless and unfair if my wife was not aware of my desires. She would have to be a strong woman to take me having a lover that is not a woman. With a woman she can at least figure it is her beauty that is lacking. With a man, she knows there is nothing she can do to win my affection. No woman deserves that.”

Rhaenys sighed. “I suppose all you can do is keep denying your brother and wait for my own to be crowned.”

“I suppose.”

—

“You cannot think Aegon and I truly wish to go to this celebration,” Rhaenys said. Speaking with her father had, once again, dissolved into an argument. 

“It is to celebrate the victory of House Targaryen against those who wished to dispose of us, this who had wanted to kill your mother and you and your brother.”

“And why were we placed in such a dangerous position in the first place?” Rhaenys demanded. “This is a celebration about you leaving my mother and Aegon and I defenseless in King’s Landing when we never had to be put in such danger in the first place.”

Her father placed a hand on her shoulder. “You will understand why I had to do this, Rhaenys. I promise. Everything I do is for a reason.”

“I do not need your reasons,” she said sharply. “Unlike everyone else I do not care about what they were. All I care about is that you left us, you left us for Lyanna and have the nerve to act as though you still deserve our love and affection. As though you deserve to earn our thankfulness for putting us in such danger in the first place.”

“You will understand one day—“

“I will never understand! I will never understand how you could throw us away like that! I am a mother and Jon and Aegon both are fathers now. I assure you we will never understand  _ one day.  _ We will never understand. So, let me stay here with my daughter while you celebrate your supposed triumph.”

“You are to come with us, Rhaenys,” her father said darkly. “It is your duty as my daughter to come with me.”

Rhaenys scowled. She hated him. She truly did. 

—

“You need to go, Rhaenys,” her mother said gently. 

“I do not want to.”

Her mother smiled and stroked her cheek. “I know. But you must. Sansa and Margaery both are in precarious situations and I do not trust Daenerys or the Baelishes. Keep an eye on them, take care of them. Please. For me.”

Rhaenys sighed. She could never deny her mother anything. Never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are on our way to Dragonstone!
> 
> Naerys will get a POV next


	51. Naerys V

They were to go to Dragonstone. 

Naerys barely remembered the ancient Targaryen keep and only remembered being with Alys. The thought of her sister made her hug her Uncle Bran even more. Because he only had one arm, he was made to stand aside and watch as the servants and the rest of the family made sure that everything was in order. 

Alys loved Dragonstone because there were so many places the two could explore. Jaehaerys often did so with them, scaling the rocks and reaching for places they might see a dragon, even though their mothers had told them the dragons had died out long ago. The three of them had been so happy on Dragonstone, despite the gloominess of it. 

But now they were going back without Alys and Naerys felt a hollowing in her chest. She snuggled closer to her juncos as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. 

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” he said. “I’m sure you will have a good time on Dragonstone.”

Naerys pouted and her uncle rocked her slightly, perhaps to just readjust her, but she felt calmer regardless. “I want Alys.”

“Mm.” He kissed her head again. “I know, but Alys will always be with you, even if you cannot see her.”

Naerys nodded. “I don’t want to go to Dragonstone.”

Uncle Bran chuckled. “If I could convince the king not to take you, I would do so. However, I’m sure your mother and father want you with them.”

Naerys nodded again. She didn’t want to be without her parents. Her father was with them for so long. She didn’t want to risk him leaving again without being able to say goodbye. 

“Naerys,” her uncle said. “I want you to promise me something.” She snuggled closer to him and he sighed. “Never be alone with your father’s aunt or with the two men called Baelish. Can you do that for me, sweet girl? Can you promise me?”

Naerys didn’t know why her uncle was asking her to make this promise. It just didn’t make sense to her, but she nodded anyway. “Okay.”

“Good girl,” her uncle replied firmly. “Now it’s time to take you to your father so he can situate you and your mother and your sisters into the carriage.”

She would have known the second she was taken into her father’s arms even without the bell. She snuggled into his warmth and the smell of her father’s cloak. He kissed her too. The stubble of his beard scratching lightly against her skin and she giggled. 

Her uncle’s warning forgotten. 

—

Naerys didn’t like riding in the carriage. It was disorienting, the way it bustled about, even slightly. It was jarring. She hung onto her mother as though her life was at stake. 

“Are you uncomfortable?” her mother asked, stroking her hair. 

Naerys nodded, tears in her eyes. It made her head feel jumbled and even though they had muffled the bells, they were still barely there in the background rattling in her head in such an enclosed space. 

“Don’t cry, sweetling,” her mother said, cupping her cheeks and kissing her tears away. A knock came to the roof from her mother. “Stop the carriage,” she ordered. 

The moving came to a sudden stop and Naerys clung to her mother tightly. 

A servant approached the window of the carriage. “Is there something you need, my lady?”

“Fetch my husband and tell him to come quickly,” Naerys’ mother replied. 

Her father was there in nearly an instant. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Is everything okay? What has happened?”

“I fear the carriage isn’t sitting well with Naerys. Do you think that she might ride with you instead. I know it might not be a good idea for the long run, but for now…”

“I’ll take her,” he answered firmly. He called out for his men to stop and he called a servant to open the door to the carriage. Naerys and her mother stepped out carefully and then Naerys was being lifted into the air and taken by her father and placed in front of him on his horse. She felt especially high then. She could not think about the last time she felt as though she were flying. “If this does not work I shall speak with the king and ask that we go at a slower pace or think of another way for Naerys to be transported. We should have practiced this before we attempted to leave for Dragonstone. Forgive me, sweet girl,” he said, kissing the top of her hair. “Your father will try to do better next time.”

—

The snow fell heavily upon the eternity of white. Alys was south again, Naerys was certain of it, but for now they were headed further east. 

She was too big now to be carried in the boy’s coat, too small to make it over the snow that went up to a full grown man’s waist. 

Naerys sat on the sled with the white wolf curled next to her. He was dozing, but Naerys felt alert and her ears twitched different directions, listening to the slightest of sounds. The pale woman sent a chill down her spine. She never wanted to see her ever again. 

“Looks like the lady is awake,” a giant man with flaming hair said. “You’ve got a fine wolf, Aemon,” he said. “If you’re willing to train her instead of pamper her.”

“I’m not pampering her,” the boy said, glaring at the man. “She’s more clumsy than Ghost.”

“And whose fault is it for that? She’s a wild beast, boy, and you spoil her too much. A wolf needs to be free and even if she might seem tame, she is wild. She does not have the same bond with you that Ghost has. Either she will wander off to make her own family or she will find her partner. Pampering her will do her no good. She needs to learn how to protect herself.”

“She’s just a pup!” Aemon exclaimed. 

“Aye, but even pups need to learn how to defend themselves. If they don’t they’re doomed to die young.”

Aemon glanced back at Naerys and she looked back at him, cocking her head, trying to figure out what the man meant. 

She looked south and wondered, once more, where Alys was. 

—

The other children were always very careful in crafting their games so that Naerys could play with them. Some of the games were created by Maester Uther to help with her walking and navigating. 

This particular game was fun, even to the other children, so once they were made to stop and allow the horses a moment of rest, they played. 

Naerys stood in the middle of her cousins and Prince Daemon. She would spin around a couple times and once she was done, they would call out to her and she would try to catch one of them. Whoever was caught was the next person who was it. Then they got in the center of the other children, they would put on a blindfold and spin around a couple times. Naerys would hold onto Jaehaerys’ or Elia’s hand as they rushed about calling for the person who was it. 

Naerys, perhaps, liked this game the best because she could play it with everyone without fearing getting hurt, especially in the little clearing they had made to play it. 

Naerys closed her eyes. She didn’t know why she did so, especially when she couldn’t see anyway, but it felt fair. She began to spin, around and around and around until she was only a little dizzy. She steadied herself and shouted 

_ Go! _

The other children began to shout, calling for her to catch them. Occasionally she would feel a tug on her sleeve and she would turn to grab at them, missing them by seconds. 

Naerys laughed as she nearly caught someone, their sleeve sliding against her fingertips. She grinned and lunged. 

“Naerys!” Elia gasped, appalled when Naerys head butted whoever it was that had last touched her sleeve. 

She fell on top of them, laughing, wrapping her arms around them and giggling into their back. 

She knew this smell well enough and she felt her face heat only a little as she held on tighter to the Dornish silk. 

“You’re it, Prince Daemon!”

He laughed. The sound rumbled through his body and it made Naerys giggle all the more until they were both in a fit of laughter, the other children joining them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are reaching the end! I don’t know how soon, but we are getting there.


	52. Sansa VII

It was good that they had been able to find a way for Naerys to travel more comfortably. However, Sansa worried about what this would mean for the future when they might have to travel again. She would only be small enough to ride with her father or uncles for so long. It would be only slightly inappropriate for her to ride with one of her cousins, but she certainly couldn’t ride with anyone else. And Sansa was not comfortable with the thought of her daughter riding a horse by herself, even if she were surrounded by guards. 

They needed to think of a way for Naerys to travel that would keep her safe and protected without making her feel disoriented. Perhaps some improvements could be made to the carriages that might turn them into smoother rides. Sansa was not wise in these sorts of things, but she would send word to Maester Uther once they reached Dragonstone and she would speak with Viserys as well. He might have some knowledge of Essosi carriages. Perhaps they have thought of a way for them to ride smoother.

“I want to ride with Father,” Celia huffed. Her pout was so very much like Arya’s that it made Sansa smile, which only made her second youngest pout more. 

“Perhaps he will allow you to ride with him once we rest for lunch. You are still far too young to ride a horse as long as your sister is.”

“Fine.” 

Sansa laughed and Lydia began to bounce in her lap. “Horsey! Horsey!”

Sansa kissed the crown of her youngest’s curls and looked out the window and smiled, watching her husband and eldest talk animatedly as they rode.

—

They slept in the carriage as it was the most protected place for them to be. The three children slept between Sansa and her husband. Jon was already fast asleep, Lydia curled on his chest, his hand resting on her back to keep her in place. 

Naerys and Celia were hugging each other closely, snuggled together and seemingly content. 

Sansa was tried but found that she was unable to sleep yet. So, she watched her family as they slept together. There was a peacefulness in it. 

And yet. The picture was incomplete. 

Alysanne. 

Her sweet Alys, her precious wolf girl. Her daughter who had been so much like Arya. Her daughter who knew all the ways to get on Sansa’s nerves only to make it right again.Her daughter who was not there.

Alys should be there. Alys should be curled into her father’s side or Sansa’s or Naerys’. Alys should be there but she was not.

Sansa curled around her family and let the pain sink in until she was finally able to find some peace.

—

Sansa walked with Margaery and Rhaenys as they stalled to allow the children a moment to run around and for the horses to rest for at least a few moments. They would reach Dragonstone soon. 

“Is it a dreary place?” Sansa asked. “I have never gone and I dare not ask anyone else, save for Princess Elia, but she is always careful with some of her words. And it has been years since she was last there. 

Margaery laughed. “It is not too dreary. There is plenty of sun and the beach is decent. There are some storms of course, but we are not going to be there during the storm season, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.” 

“Thank the gods we shall not be there during any great storm. Daenerys would be even more unbearable. Stormborn,” Rhaenys scoffed. “As thought that were a good thing. Rainborn sounds sounds so much more peaceful than Stormborn.”

“We will be there a little before her nameday,” Margaery said. “I wonder if we shall be forced to celebrate it.” 

“Surely not,” Sansa said firmly. “Not after what she’s done.” 

“If the king is foolish enough to celebrate him causing a rebellion, then I wouldn’t put it past him,” Margaery said.

“My father has always doted on her,” Rhaenys added. “But I do not think he will allow her to celebrate her nameday. Not after what she did but also because it would take attention away from what he wishes to celebrate. Perhaps he will give her a small feast and a gift, but nothing as elaborate as he has done for others.” 

Sansa took a deep breath. “I suppose so. But why has your father invited the Baelishes? I know that Jon and Aegon both asked, but he would not explain.” 

Rhaenys sighed. “That, I do not know. My father is so secretive. He has never shared anything of merit with us. We are to follow his command and not question it. He can do as he likes because he is king, but he is our father as well and we deserve answers. I am glad that Aegon and Jon are nothing like him and hold both of you in high regard and that they keep nothing from you, although Jon did have to make some improvements. I fear I shall never understand my father and part of me never wishes to.”

—

“Sansa.”

She lifted her chin and schooled her features. “Lord Allyn,” she said, not looking out the window of the carriage as he rode next to it. “I believe it is improper for you to call me by my name. Lady Sansa will do.”

“Forgive me, my lady, I did not mean to be rude.”

Sansa wanted to huff, but she held it in. “I am tending to my children, my lord,” she said. “Forgive me, but I am in no mood to speak.”

“Sansa—“

She closed the curtain of the window and sighed. She did not wish to deal with him at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a Covid scare this weekend. hence the shorter chapters.


	53. Aegon II

Aegon had to stop himself from smirking. He could not hear the conversation but he knew that his good sister had shut down Allyn Baelish and his attempt at flattery or whatever it was that he had wanted to say. Aegon was nowhere close enough to intervene if he needed to, but he had hoped that the Valeman wouldn’t do anything that would force his hand. 

He feared, briefly, of retaliation. The man had most likely sent a blanket for the purpose of bringing his nieces death. 

Thoughts of Alysanne weighed heavily upon him. 

Aegon would never say that he had a favorite when it came to his brother’s children. But Alys had a special place in his heart. She had been so free and joyful. She had a sort of charm about her that reminded Aegon of Rhaenys when they were children. She had a sense of freedom that was infectious, a laugh that could bring a smile to anyone. She had been so full of life. And then she was suddenly gone.

The only thing that brought him comfort was perhaps the three children he had lost were with her bow so that she would not be alone. He never wanted to think of Alys being alone. No. She had always been with Naerys. And now it was Naerys who was alone. 

He shook his head and turned his thought and attention to Margaery. She was beginning to have motion sickness and the carriage ride was not helping her condition, but she refused to ride a horse. He prayed that this time would be different and that perhaps they might be allowed a second child. He did not think that Margaery would be able to handle another loss. 

—

Jaehaerys insisted on riding with Aegon so that he could talk to Naerys as she rode with Jon. The sight of his son with Naerys brought a smile to Aegon’s lips. He knew that Jon was smiling too, even if he didn’t agree to a betrothal. 

To a degree Aegon understood. He would no doubt feel the same to a degree if he had a daughter. But he was thinking of his son and could see how much he cared for his cousin. How he was so carefree and happy as he was describing their surroundings to Naerys. 

Perhaps in time Naerys would be the one to ask for a betrothal. She needed to marry someone she could trust and someone who would be by her side and understand how to help her when her blindness might cause issues. Jaehaerys was already invested in caring for her and seemed to love his cousin as many loved first. It was a childish first love. But that sort of love was the sweetest and, even if nothing came of it, Aegon hoped that it would not sour. 

Naerys laughed and Aegon and Jon smiled. The children were happy and, at the moment, that was all that truly mattered. 

—

Aegon hated Dragonstone. He hated how cold it was, how dark. He hated everything about it. Whatever darkness had sprung in House Targaryen it could be rooted in their awful seat. It was grim and lonely and a waste of storms and salt. Luckily it was a season where they would not have many storms, but Aegon could not help but hate it. 

The island was desolate and there was no happiness to be found there. It was where the last of the dragonlords had found their home, escaping from the Doom. It was a refuge of the selfish. It was where House Targaryen had fled, leaving with no care to the others who were like them. 

_A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing._

He thought of his great uncle Aemon. He thought of the blind old man who had more wisdom than any of them put together. 

House Targaryen had been alone since the Doom, since they made it so that there were no others like them, since they had destroyed House Blackfyre. They were alone and gods forbid any be special and have dragons as well. 

Dragonstone represented everything that was wrong with House Targaryen. It was like Aegon’s father. 

His father might appear warm and inviting, perhaps like the Red Keep, but in truth he was like Dragonstone. He was cold and set at a distance where they could not approach him easily. There was a coldness to him, where Aegon and his siblings could not be brought close to him. They could love their mothers and be with them as any child could. But their father was different. 

He had not known that until he had known Margaery, until he had seen her relationship with her father. He had thought his father was as all fathers were. But in that, he was wrong. 

—

They were getting onto the boat for Dragonstone. 

Naerys was being carried by Jon onto the boat and Aegon had to smile. She was like a monkey in how she was wrapped around his brother, her head resting against his shoulder. They were worried, of course, about how she might handle being on a boat, but they hoped that it might be easier when she was on open air. 

Sansa was holding Lydia in one arm and had Celia by the hand. Aegon’s brother and good sister were talking to Naerys gently, no doubt telling her she was a good girl and that she was doing so well. 

A flash of silvery white caught Aegon’s eye and he saw his aunt watching his brother’s family. He did not know why, but he felt uncomfortable with that gaze. He did not like the way his aunt watched Jon or how her eyes narrowed at the sight of Sansa. 

He did not like it. 

He did not trust it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh!!! We are getting so close to the climax. I’m not ready for you guys to react to it 😭


	54. Arianne V

Dragonstone was dark and dismal and ugly. There were no other words that Arianne could use to describe it as they drew closer to the Targaryen’s ancestral Westerosi seat. It was obvious that it was not architects that had come to build on the island. If this was all that the Targaryens had to offer in terms of architecture, then Arianne could not help but wonder if all the dragonlords had similar tastes. Was Valyria this ugly? Or did the slaves who build it actually have a creative bone in their body. 

_ Dragonstone.  _ What a pretentious name. An unoriginal one as well. Arianne thought of all the other ancestral keeps in Westeros and Dragonstone was by far the least creative as well. Truly an ugly sight. 

The only ones who seemed truly enthralled by the sight of the keep as they drew closer by ship, were the children, but more because the eldest of them were trying to describe it to Naerys as she leaned against the wall of the ship and let the salt air caress her cheeks like a lover. 

Arianne smiled at them. The wonder of a child never ceased to bring a smile to her lips. Even if they had any ill opinion of the keep, they dared not keep Naerys from her wonder of a place she had never been to. 

—

Arianne put her sons in her own bed for a nap. The journey had not been so exhausting, but children often needed to rest for an hour or so as they got rooted once more on land. The other mothers had done the same for their children and Arianne was not exempt from this. Even if her children had better sea legs that the others, she felt it was best for them to rest. 

Arianne pressed gentle kisses to their cheeks and let them rest, let them curl into one another and find peace in their dreams. 

—

Arianne sat with Rhaenys, Sansa, and Margaery as they watched the men set up and order around the party preparations. 

She sighed. “I feel rather left out, but I doubt even a feminine touch could bring life to this keep.”

“It’s why I insisted on going to the Reach with my family whenever the king asks that we leave for something or another,” Margaery said. “It is so very gloomy here, I don’t know how anyone can stand it.”

“Very rarely,” Rhaenys replied. “I remember coming here as a child. It can be rather like an adventure when you’re a child, all the caves and secret passages, but as an adult it is so very dull. The Targaryens are not known for their architecture. Any greatness to be found in the Red Keep or the Sept of Baelor should be attributed to those in Westeros whose family has been here for more than three hundred years.”

Sansa snorted. “I always felt that the stones are rather similar to Winterfell in a way,” she said. “It is so strange that this keep has the name of beasts that breathe fire and yet it is so cold here and the Stark seat is called Winterfell and yet it is so very warm and welcoming once you are within its walls.”

“It’s because the Starks had thousands of years to understand their environment and where they were building,” Arianne said. “Just as those of the Reach and Sunspear were able to build keeps suitable for their environment. The Targaryens… Perhaps it was different when dragons were around?”

“I can’t imagine how,” Rhaenys replied. “Where did they even keep them? Did they just descend upon the people and eat their livestock?”

“Perhaps they got their food from the sea?” Margaery suggested. 

“Who knows,” Arianne sighed. “All we do know is that we shall be stuck here until the king decides to let us all return to the Red Keep.”

—

Arianne stayed awake despite her sons falling fast asleep beside her. She missed Waymar. Having her with her at the Red Keep had been a blessing and now that she was gone once more from his side, she missed him. 

She held her sons closer to her and let her mind wander, hoping that she would see her husband once more very soon. 


	55. Jaehaerys V

“But why can’t I go exploring with Naerys,” Jaehaerys said, crossing his arms in frustration. He knew that he was pouting and acting childish, but he didn’t particularly care. 

“This isn’t the Red Keep,” his mother said gently. “Naerys doesn’t know the layout half as well as she knows our home. It would be best if you don’t take her exploring when both of you might get lost.”

“I wouldn’t get lost,” he grumbled. 

His mother laughed and stroked his hair and kissed the crown of his head. “Perhaps not, but we can’t risk it, and we wouldn’t want Naerys to panic and get worried because she doesn’t know where she is, do we?”

“I would protect her and make sure she didn’t get lost.”

His mother chuckled again. “I’m sure you would, but I’m sure your Uncle Jon and Aunt Sansa would be worried if they didn’t know where Naerys was.”

“I guess.” Naerys wouldn’t want to worry her parents either. She always wanted to behave well. Even so, Jaehaerys wanted to take her exploring. But he supposed they would have to wait now. 

“If you want to play with Naerys it shall have to be in her room so she doesn’t get hurt and knock into anything she’s unfamiliar with. Your Aunt Sansa says she’s already memorized where everything is. Perhaps as time goes by you’ll be able to explore more, but for now you shall just have to make do.”

Jaehaerys sighed. “Okay.”

—

Jaehaerys walked with his grandfather along the wall of the keep. It looked out towards the ocean, towards the open sky of perfect blue. 

Even though it was a little windy, Jaehaerys thought the view was beautiful. He clung to his grandfather’s side to steady himself so he didn’t feel bustled by the wind. His grandfather had a firm hand on his shoulder and kept him steady. 

“There is a beauty to Dragonstone,” the man said. “I think it is a beauty that only a Targaryen can understand.”

Jaehaerys looked at the keep itself. It wasn’t as beautiful as Highgarden or had the familiar comfort of the Red Keep. “I guess.”

“You must promise me something, Jaehaerys.”

“Yes?”

“As my only grandson it is up to you to make sure that our house’s legacy is secure. While Naerys is the heir of my heir, you are the only boy of your generation to carry the Targaryen name.”

Jaehaerys looked at his grandfather in confusion. Uncle Viserys’ son Brandon was also a boy and was a Targaryen. But before Jaehaerys could remind his grandfather, he continued on. 

“Your cousins shall need you to be their center for you are the main head of our future dragon. It is you who shall lead us into a new dawn.”

Jaehaerys was still confused. Lord Bran spoke of the dawn often too, but he felt that the two were speaking of two separate things, however he wasn’t sure. 

“You must watch over your cousin Naerys especially. The fire burns brightest before the darkness comes and you must be ready. She is to be your Rhaenys and your Nissa Nissa.”

Jaehaerys didn’t know who the last name was. He thought perhaps he had heard the words once before but it sounded a little like gibberish. 

“Promise me, Jaehaerys,” he said. “That you shall be with your cousin at all times and, if you can, keep Elia with you as well. Promise me.”

Jaehaerys nodded, but he wasn’t sure if he could keep that promise. Elia was three years older than him and four years older than Naerys. She didn’t like playing with them much since she thought they were babies. 

He didn’t understand why his grandfather was making such a big deal out of being with Naerys and Elia. 

—

Naerys heard the singing again. They were playing in her room and Jaehaerys was helping guide her hand so she might memorize the old dollhouse that had belonged to their great grandmother. 

They were playing with the wolf and dragon dolls when it started. 

He hated seeing Naerys so frightened, hated the way that she would tense and begin to curl in on herself so that the voices would leave her alone. 

Jaehaerys cupped her face with his hands, kissing her forehead to bring her out of her shell before pressing a brief kiss to her lips. 

Jaehaerys pulled away and Naerys’ glassy eyes shone with tears as she wrapped her arms around his neck and began to cry. He held her carefully. 

“I’ll protect you,” he said firmly. “I promise.”

—

“Leave her alone!” Jaehaerys felt the world around him shake as a roar echoed against the sky. “Let her go!”

_ Do not wake the dragon.  _

“No!” Naerys screamed as she was being taken away. “Jaehaerys! No!”

_ Do not wake the dragon.  _

“Let her go!”

_ Do not wake the dragon. _

He felt something slash across his chest and searing pain pressed into his body and Jaehaerys woke up screaming. 

**Author's Note:**

> Here are the ages of the characters!
> 
> Rhaegar – 50  
> Elia – 52  
> Lyanna – 42
> 
> Daenerys – 25
> 
> Viserys – 30  
> Arya – 23 (pregnant)  
> Brandon – 4  
> Jenny – 3
> 
> Jon – 26  
> Sansa – 24  
> Naerys – 7 (blind)  
> Alysanne – 7 (deceased)  
> Celia – 4  
> Lydia – 2
> 
> Rhaenys – 29  
> Bryndon – 27  
> Elia – 10
> 
> Aegon – 27  
> Margaery – 26  
> Jaehaerys – 7
> 
> Arianne – 33  
> Waymar – 31  
> Olyvar – 12  
> Daemon – 9
> 
> Joffrey – 24  
> Doreah – 26  
> Arthur – 7 (Idiopathic scoliosis)  
> Joanna – 6  
> Amyra – 3
> 
> Jayne – 23  
> Podrick – 23  
> Lyarra – 6  
> Cedric – 5
> 
> Ned – 46  
> Catelyn – 44
> 
> Robb – 26  
> Talisa – 25  
> Torrhen – 8  
> Cat – 5  
> Eddie – 2
> 
> Bran – 20 (missing one arm)  
> Meera – 24  
> Minisa – 3  
> Jojen – 2
> 
> Rickon – 18  
> Sigrid – 19 (pregnant)
> 
> Aemon – 9
> 
> Theon – 30  
> Lyra – 29  
> Eddard – 13  
> Jayne – 10  
> Rodrick – 8  
> Alannys – 6
> 
> Robin – 19  
> Shireen – 20  
> Arwen – 2  
> Mathos – 1
> 
> Petyr – 40  
> Lysa – 41
> 
> Allyn – 23


End file.
